


Expecting the Totally Unexpected

by Beelzebub_fuckers



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: A Step Up From Godfathers, Angels are assholes, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), But really when is he not?, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Demons Are Assholes, Hastur Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Lord Bless This Mess, M/M, Mpreg, Post-Apocalypse, Pregnant Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Really it's going around
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24224023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beelzebub_fuckers/pseuds/Beelzebub_fuckers
Summary: Aziraphale is given a new mission from God. Crowley is fed up with that infernal woman's meddling. The Angels are begrudgingly following God's orders while Demons attempt to fuck them over at every turn. It's a stressful pregnancy, but Aziraphale is going to make the best of it, damn it!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 57
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

The Little Armageddon that Didn’t was a smashing success, in God’s opinion. The world was born anew, Adam had proven a point, and most importantly, Angels and Demons were now working together. All according to Her ineffable plan.

But not exactly.

Angels and Demons had united for a common goal in order to figure out what happened now that their end goal had been utterly stopped in it’s tracks by a witch, witch-hunter, computer engineer, psychic/prostitute, demon-angel duo, the Antichrist, and his friends. But they weren’t getting along. They had missed the lesson hidden in the ultimate end of a half-baked Apocalypse. It sometimes turned out this way. Things typically worked in accordance with God’s plans, but it was hard to make everything turn out the way She wanted with billions of beings capable of free will.

She sighed, looking out at the planet Earth, still circling the star Sol as it always had. Most of her children were totally unaware of the bullet they’d dodged. Or the Anti-Christ they dodged, as it were. Things returned to the way they had always been. Tadfield was idyllic and peaceful, the M-25 was a mess of traffic with not a wall of fire in sight, and Her children Crowley and Aziraphale were dining at the Ritz.

Now _there_ was a pair that understood the ultimate truth. That demons and angels were cut from the same cloth. That they should be partners. They should love each other, like they should love all living things. She smiled at Her favorite dynamic duo while they sampled wine and cake together. Her other angels, unfortunately, mocked Aziraphale for his love of Earth and food. As well as his friendship with the demon Crowley. Other demons failed to understand Crowley’s brilliance or kindness. Both were shunned by their peers. It saddened God to see that Her children failed to learn the lesson so clearly demonstrated in front of them. It should have been obvious.

But then, neither angels _nor_ demons were the cleverest bunch. Perhaps they needed a more obvious example. A visual demonstration of the idea that demons and angels were ultimately two sides of the same coin, in the end. That they balanced each other, and brought each other happiness and freedom. Like how the fruit had brought human beings’ freedom.

Aziraphale and Crowley. Two compelling supernatural entities. Unique from their peers. Aziraphale being pious and gentle and kind as well as adventurous and fierce. Crowley was imaginative, protective, and caring. Both angels and demons lacked all of these qualities. They had infinite potential. They had proven Her theory in practice.

Perhaps they could prove it again.

* * *

It was a totally normal day in London. Grey, rainy, and cozy in A.Z. and Fell Co. Aziraphale was occupied in setting up a new display of Austen’s best works. Stacking them meticulously with a sharp, discerning aesthetic eye. Not a single customer had bothered him that day so far, and Aziraphale was delighted in having an ordinary day all to himself.

And yet, the only thing that was predictable about life was how utterly unpredictable it was.

“Aziraphale!” The angel addressed jerked in surprise, nearly sending his new display toppling to the ground. With a snap of his fingers, it righted itself again. Aziraphale turned nervously to greet Gabriel.

“Oh, Gabriel. What a surprise.” He said with a tight smile. It truly was a surprise. Since his failed execution, Aziraphale hadn’t heard from Heaven. It had been months of blessed silence. Now the angel Gabriel was standing in his bookshop once again. Grey suit and white scarf and cold purple eyes all in places he wasn’t welcome. Aziraphale tried his best to ignore his racing human heart and growing panic.

The archangel gave him a smile that Aziraphale knew was meant to seem warm, but came across more as a grimace. “Yes, well I’m here on official business! It’s been thousands of years since I’ve done this, but congratulations! Let’s see, what was the script again?” Aziraphale watched Gabriel shuffle about, patting his pockets in search of something. Finally retrieving a roll of golden parchment. “Ah! ‘Greetings, you who are highly favored. The Lord is with you.’”

Aziraphale’s stomach seemed to drop out of existence as Gabriel started his speech. Oh, no, no. He _recognized_ this speech.

“‘Do not be afraid, Aziraphale, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a daughter, daughter of angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley.’” Aziraphale made a rasping sound and stumbled back against his bookshelves. They rattled and spilled the contents of their shelves onto his head, raining heavy books on his head and sending them all tumbling to the floor. Gabriel ignored this reaction. “‘As Jesus taught God’s children the lesson of kindness, your child will teach God’s children a new lesson. And the Lord will be with them.’”

“I am—!” Aziraphale gasped, clutching his chest to try and still his hammering heart. “I know Mary was a virgin, as I am, but I am also…! My corporation! I have male anatomy!”

“That can be changed. We can find you a new corporation.” Gabriel said.

“No! No, I like my body! Please, for heaven’s sake! I don’t want this!” The room was spinning beneath Aziraphale’s feet, and he trembled over to the nearest chair to collapse in. “Gabriel, you have no love for Crowley. Why are you doing this?”

“Oh, you’re absolutely right. I have no love for the demon Crowley. You should have smitten him on the wall when he appeared before you.” Gabriel said sharply. “But there are new orders now! We are in no place to question the Almighty. You are honored and blessed, Aziraphale.” Gabriel looked disgusted as he said this, but the words themselves were genuine. “Heaven will support you in Her holy name. This is a good thing! Since you _ruined_ God’s last plan She is obviously giving you a chance at redemption. Now you can clean up your mess by helping the new plan come to fruition.”

Aziraphale stared slack-jawed up at Gabriel. He couldn’t believe this was happening. This _had_ to be some kind of punishment. Or a cruel joke. Angels didn’t often tell jokes, and their jokes were never good, but this wasn’t a good joke! So, it was totally plausible. He begged with his eyes for relief. Waiting for the ‘gotcha.’ But it never came. Gabriel gave Aziraphale another smile that failed to be reassuring. “Well! That was fun. So glad to be doing Her holy work again. Congratulations again, Aziraphale.”

Gabriel popped out of existence, leaving Aziraphale terrified and alone in his bookshop.

His breaths were shaky, turning into gasps and then wheezes. He tore at his hair, then his stomach, trying to make sense of it all. A child. Him and _Crowley—_ in this body! Without thinking, he shoved a hand into his pants. Unconcerned at the moment with his lack of decorum. He ran his hand along his male sex. Still there. So _how?_ He ran over to his phone, calling Crowley immediately. His fingers fumbled on the rotary dial, but he managed through holy power and pure desperation to call his friend.

Of course, it went immediately to voice mail. Damn that demon! He needed him! He sobbed, listening to Crowley’s voice on the other end. _You know what to do, do it with style._ before the tone indicated he could speak.

“Crowley, Crowley! Please, pick up the phone! I think I’m…”

He drew another shaking breath as he fell to the floor, overwhelmed and unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fanfiction is shit but I'm just desperately writing because it's all I can do right now. I'm just riding whatever wind is in my sails to wherever it may carry me and you're all in for the ride. So excuse me if it's not good

Crowley loved rainy days in London. They set the perfect atmosphere for terrorizing his plants. Especially with thunder and lightning, though unfortunately there was none. The dramatic flashes of light threw his dark shadow over the trembling greenery and the rumbles of thunder accentuated his furious screaming perfectly. Instead the dark, oppressive grey atmosphere of London outside served to remind his plants of the dark world they lived in. Shaking as he shredded another of their number in the garbage disposal before misting the plants.

He heard his answering machine, and put his bottle down, walking over with mild interest to see who was calling. He heard the recording start. Aziraphale’s shrill, panicked voice came through loud and clear. _Crowley, Crowley! Please, pick up the phone! I think I’m…_ The angel’s voice was abruptly cut off with a series of crashes and a dull _thud._ Instantaneously Crowley’s mild interest threw itself into sharp panic. He ripped the phone up and placed it against his ear.

“Angel! Angel, what happened? Are they there? C’mon answer the phone for Satan’s sake!” He shouted. There was no answer, despite his pleas. He threw the phone away in frustration, racing out of his apartment without a second thought.

His Bentley was already on and raring to go when he got there, and he slid into the driver’s seat. Without buckling in the demon slammed on the gas pedal, ignoring the smell of burning rubber as he broke speed records racing across London to the bookshop he knew.

Within two minutes Crowley was sprinting through the bookshop door. From a first glance, Crowley would say it was empty. Perhaps it was. But the smell of Aziraphale was fresh. He was there. Or at least had been until very recently. “Angel! Where are you?!”

He jumped over a stack of fallen books, noticing the broken shelves, like someone had been slammed into them. A struggle? His desperation to find Aziraphale peaked as he pushed into the angel’s office.

At the foot of the desk, Aziraphale laid sprawled out on the floor. Eyes closed and unconscious. The phone hung off the edge of the desk, hanging from its cord. Crowley ignored it completely and crouched over the angel. He shook his shoulders violently. “Aziraphale! Wake up, come on! Get up!” He was concerned when the angel didn’t stir. His golden eyes swept over the unconscious form. There were no obvious injuries, and he could feel the radiating power of the angel within, so he hadn’t discorporated. Keeping a strong grip on his shoulders, Crowley hauled Aziraphale forward, pulling the angel in to his chest. While asleep, his head flopped to the side, and Crowley leaned into the crook of his neck to smell.

No blood, no corruption or sulfur, so not a demon attack. There was the honeyed scent of purity angels always carried with them, and something else. Crowley frowned. It wasn’t clear, but it was familiar. It was on the tip of his tongue, which flickered out, serpentine, to taste the air and sort through the smells.

With his snake sense of smell, he could discern that Gabriel had been there but a few moments ago. He growled. Gabriel. That holy bastard. If he hurt Aziraphale, Crowley was gonna—there was that odd scent again. Warm and soft and mellow. Crowley gently lowered Aziraphale to the ground and slithered down the length of his body. Flicking his tongue through his teeth as he went. Following the scent until he settled between Aziraphale’s legs, just below his navel and just above his pubic area. It was concentrated there, and Crowley leaned in. He’d smelled it before, many times. On human women, everywhere. But it wasn’t possible. Not with Aziraphale at least.

The warm scent of pregnancy flavored the pure honey aroma of his angel.

Crowley reared back, stunned and astounded. It was totally impossible. Especially… well… this close to his pubic area Crowley could _smell_ his manhood. Besides that, Crowley didn’t think Aziraphale had ever had sex. Did angels even _get_ pregnant? He smelled again. Still there. Small and subtle, this was new. Did Gabriel do this? _Why_ would he do that? Gabriel was not the guardian angel of pregnancy. He was never involved in such a thing. Well, there was one time. But that—

No.

Crowley shouted in frustration. Of course! God, that meddling bitch! Couldn’t She just leave them alone? He crawled back up Aziraphale’s body, settling over his face. “Angel, you gotta wake up. Come on, I’m lost. You have to explain this.”

The angel didn’t wake, and suddenly Crowley was chewing his lips. Wondering if he _would_ wake up. Crowley himself had slept for years at a time in the past. They were not like mortals, roused by the sun or the need for food or anything else. Surely, he couldn’t sleep through this pregnancy? His hands hovered over his friend, unsure of what to do. He hissed in frustration. Okay, one thing at a time.

He put his hands on Aziraphale’s face and shook it gently. “Angel, I’m here.” He poured magic into his hands and his words, trying to gently coax Aziraphale into doing what he wanted. Like tempting. “Okay? You needed me, I’m here. So just… wake up and tell me what’s going on.”

The angel’s eyes fluttered, and Crowley’s heart soared with relief. “Mmm. Crowley.” Aziraphale muttered. As if realizing what he said, the angel’s eyes shot open. “Crowley! The baby! Oh, Crowley, there’s… Well it’s hard to explain!” He wrung his hands as he struggled over each word, and the demon grabbed them, stopping their nervous motion.

“Yeah, I’m aware of that much. I can smell it on you.” Aziraphale flushed at the words and Crowley couldn’t help but be amused at the bashful reaction. He helped his friend sit up and settled them into chairs, putting Aziraphale’s hands back in his lap and sitting back to hear the explanation. “What about Gabriel? What the hell happened.”

“Oooooh, fuck.” The angel swore. “That rotten angel! He comes to me giving me the Mary speech, saying I’m going to have a child! And this child is supposed to teach God’s children a new lesson! And I say I don’t have the equipment! But of course, all things are possible with God, although I am glad to keep my corporation. And I called you because I didn’t know what to do and how am I supposed to carry a demon’s child I don’t even—!”

Crowley immediately focused in on two words. “Woah, woah! Demon’s child?”

Aziraphale paled. “Oh yes. Haha. Funny you say that.”

“I didn’t say that you said that. What did they do?” Crowley growled. If this was some sick punishment, Hell’s way of getting revenge on him, Crowley was going to rip Beelzebub’s head off and feed it to Hastur.

“Ha, yes. I did say that! And Gabriel said that as well. Ah, well. I imagine this is all part of Her plan!” Aziraphale had that smile now. The strained smile that focused on positivity, faith in God when he was lost to everything else. “So, he gives me the Mary speech, you know. He says ‘Do not be afraid, Aziraphale, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a daughter, daughter of angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley.’ And I say I’m a man! I can’t do it like Mary did because, well. I just, don’t have it in me. Haha!”

“Ah.” Crowley says. Nervous laughter from Aziraphale. Great sign. “Right. Daughter of angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley. Except, I mean Angel, we’ve spent some lovely nights together. Truly. Loved the dinners and the wine. But when did I have the chance exactly to give you a daughter?”

“Well obviously I’m not the first pregnant virgin, Crowley. Don’t be so daft.” Aziraphale said, looking at the ceiling to avoid eye contact.

“Right, because that’s the issue here. Not that you’re an angel pregnant with a demon. Course, I’m being daft. All things are possible with God.” Crowley snarled. “Except some peace and privacy. Angel we never asked for this!”

“Yes, I know. Crowley, I was rather shocked too. But well, this is part of God’s plan! You know how these things are, and I have to have faith that She is going to care for me and carry me through this challenge, because She wills it so!”

“That’s so stupid! This is your body! She can’t just keep shoving babies in virgins to teach the world a lesson! Jesus, the Anti-Christ, now this! We are never going to stop worrying about all these world-altering children. They’re just falling out of the sky now. Lovely London weather. Really.” Aziraphale took a deep breath, Crowley knelt before his friend. He could smell it a little more strongly now. Perhaps because he knew what he was looking for. The sweet smell of life within life. Crowley’s daughter evidently. He willed away any instinctive emotions. At the moment, this was about the angel. His friend didn’t want this. He knew he didn’t. He wanted to have the freedom to run a bookshop and go to restaurants all over the world. God’s plans didn’t matter. Crowley and Aziraphale proved that. If Aziraphale said the word, Crowley would burn this out of him right now, no questions asked. No feelings involved. Because his friend was more important.

“Crowley, I’m not like you. I have faith.” Aziraphale said shakily. “I’m scared, and I need you. I can’t do this alone. Maybe She gave me a partner because She knew I needed your help. Please don’t make me do it alone.”

Crowley breathed out a sigh. Brushing his fingers over the worn vest Aziraphale always wore, as if he could feel the life beneath, nestled somewhere inside the angel. “Angel, I’m with you forever. You know that.”

Aziraphale huffed in relief. “Alright. So… Ready to be godfathers again?”

The demon groaned. Here they go again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually, my chapters are longer than this and will be in the future, but I'm just setting the groundwork. So, yeah! Hope you enjoy it so far


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heaven deliberates with Hell over the recent developments. Crowley treats his angel to lunch and processes his fatherhood

Michael smiled at Gabriel as he reentered heaven. “Welcome back, how did the mission go?”

“God’s work has been done on Earth. The principality Aziraphale will bear a daughter.” Gabriel pursed his lips as he finished the sentence, trying to hold in his disgust. He dare not question the will of Her out loud, but the child of a demon and an angel? She certainly had some radical ideas, to put it lightly.

“Right.” Michael said, clearly thinking something similar. “Should we prepare paperwork for a new angel?”

Gabriel thought about it, then frowned. “How are we sure the child will be an angel?”

“Because an angel is bearing it.” Michael said, gracefully stepping around the question, but she understood what Gabriel was getting at.

“It could also be a demon. The father, so to speak, is the demon Crowley.” Gabriel stood beside Michael’s desk. “Or, something new? This has never happened before. What if the child turns out to be some sort of abomination?”

“I doubt it.” Michael said. “This is God’s holy work, done from the child-rearing of an angel. The daughter will be an angel, I’m sure.”

“And yet Crowley is an expert of corrupting the pure. He got Adam and Eve cast out of Eden, started the second world war, and pulled Aziraphale… into… into a life of sin!” He scoffed. “How are we to be sure that the child will turn out pious and proper?”

Michael pursed her lips. It was true that Crowley had a bad influence on everything he was involved in. He somehow managed to turn the M-25 into a wall of infernal flames, bring down all the cell towers in London, and ruin the Apocalypse. He also took a faithful and well-meaning angel and turned him into a sinner. What they knew about Crowley was limited. He was cunning, unpredictable, and immune to holy water. She thought back on the smirking demon demanding a bath towel from her. His powers and limits were unknown to them. They had records of what angels had fallen, but they didn’t know who turned into what demon after the fact. So they didn’t even know his previous identity.

But perhaps the demons would know more?

“I think we should seek the council of our new allies.” Michael said lightly.

Gabriel snapped his fingers. “There’s an idea! They made the Anti-Christ. Maybe they’ll know more about this demon child nonsense. Well then, give them a call, schedule a meeting. You know the drill.”

Michael nodded, reaching for her phone.

* * *

Really, Crowley should have expected this to happen. It would have been too easy. Letting them get away with living a happy, uninterrupted life on Earth. That wasn’t the way of the world. Whenever things settled down, God threw a wrench in things. And boy did She. His golden eyes settled on Aziraphale, who was anxiously rearranging the books that had fallen during Gabriel’s visit. He should have expected this.

But babies were often unexpected.

After living for thousands of years, things don’t really surprise you anymore. Crowley had seen it all. He’d seen the worst of humanity and the best of their creativity. He’d seen Heaven, Hell, and everywhere between. He’d hung the stars in the sky. But he’d never had a child. A daughter. Aziraphale was _pregnant_ and God, how was he supposed to handle that? It was so totally ridiculous and shocking that Crowley could only do what he always did facing the unexpected. He sat sprawled out on one of Aziraphale’s cushy reading chairs and looked unbothered. Act cool. Behind dark shades, Crowley’s eyes fell down Aziraphale’s body and settled on his soft middle. Soft curves stretched tight behind a tweed waistcoat. Huh. There. Nestled inside was something entirely new, something alive that he could sense and smell. Something that was somehow his, at least in part. Crowley swallowed nervously. Yep. Act cool.

Aziraphale straightened the shelf he broke, using a minor miracle to mend the wood. Sliding books back onto the repaired surface. He could feel Crowley’s eyes on him. He wondered what the demon was thinking. He was rather nervous about the whole thing. He really had put a lot of pressure on the demon with this whole pregnancy announcement. He had worried that his friend would simply. Walk out on him. For all of Crowley’s talk about _our side_ and _you and me, angel_ it was entirely different to have that kind of devotion put to a test. Birds of a feather flock together, until the cat comes. Or a baby. Lord, give him strength. His hand grazed over his stomach as he knelt down to retrieve another book. Yet Crowley hadn’t abandoned him. He was lounging like not a thing in the world was wrong. He wasn’t sure if it was reassuring or unsettling. But he was glad the demon was keeping a level head about the whole thing.

Aziraphale slid the last few books into place. “Good job, Angel.” He jumped at Crowley speaking behind him. “Looks great.”

“Thank you.” He replied without thought.

There was a beat of silence, Aziraphale fiddled with the hem of his waistcoat as he thought of what to do next. What to say next. What was there to say? Crowley was still relaxed as ever, picking at his nails casually like he hadn’t just heard life changing news. But he didn’t have to think of what to say next. Crowley had it all figured out.

“So, lunch?” Crowley asked. “I didn’t have it. Planned to after I watered my plants, and then, well. Have you eaten, Angel?”

“No, I haven’t.” He breathed.

“Well, you should. Eating for two and all that. Let’s go, Angel.” He slid to his feet in one fluid motion, snapping his fingers. The Bentley roared to life outside. “We’ll get Italian. When’s the last time you had Italian? Today is definitely a pasta day.”

Aziraphale smiled, his heart fluttered with relief and he followed the demon to his Bentley, settling in the passengers’ seat comfortably.

Crowley smiled to himself as he slid Queen’s best hits into the radio set. He drove the speed limit this time. There was no rush. Besides, this was all to make Aziraphale comfortable. Humans say stress is bad for pregnancy, and who is he to question the people who’ve been doing this for thousands of years? He watched Aziraphale rest his hands on his stomach out of the corner of his eyes. They were usually folded elegantly on his lap. But things were changing.

They rolled up to the Italian restaurant after twenty minutes of slow London traffic and agonizing waits at stop signs. But Aziraphale seemed to enjoy the sluggish pace and even hummed quietly to the music. So it was worth the wait. Especially when he saw his angel dig into a plate of mushroom ravioli with a decadent moan. Yep. This is the way Aziraphale was meant to be. He sat quietly and watched the angel enjoy his food, drinking in not only his wine, but also the pleasure of his dining partner. He had always enjoyed doing this. Having meals with the only angel he could ever tolerate. His friend.

Crowley loved him.

He always had, really. It started with a spark of amusement, talking to an angel in Eden, being told he gave his sword to the humans as a gift. Passing off something given to him directly from God. A thoughtless act of kindness. Angels treasured everything given to them by God, they would never give a sword from God to mortals. But this angel was different. He didn’t think about his sword as an ego-fueling badge of honor from God. He only thought about the cold nights and the pregnant woman he could help. Another act of kindness and Crowley was helpless. Shielded by an angel’s wing from the rain. Angels didn’t consider demons. Ever. They were enemies, and not worthy of respect or kindness. But again, Aziraphale was different. Always different. Always amusing, always kind.

How could he _not_ fall in love?

Now this. Aziraphale didn’t love him back. He’d accepted that long ago. An angel could never feel that way about a demon. It was totally improper. Fraternizing. He scorned the word. But did God consider the angel’s feelings? No. She never considered the feelings of those below her. The lives she disrupted and ended in Her little games. Toying with their lives. Aziraphale dragged a finger through the creamy sauce, licking it off his fingers. Crowley smirked at the messy little indulgence. His angel and his daughter. He’d have to feed them more.

Aziraphale worried Crowley would abandon him. Never in a million years. Not in the past 6,000. Not in whatever future years there were to come. He was sticking with his angel through thick and thin. He would keep the angel happy and comfortable through his pregnancy. And if Heaven or Hell had the audacity to meddle, or Satan forbid, try to _harm_ Aziraphale. Well. Crowley would still be there. With holy water, hellfire, or whatever other weapon he had on hand.

He had a lovely lunch with his angel, Aziraphale was much happier after some food, and the demon Crowley decided they would be alright.

* * *

Beelzebub was the same as they always were. Smelly, short, and pissed off. They stood before Gabriel with a scowl on their face, accompanied by Duke Hastur and Lord Dagon. Also sneering. Uriel, Michael, and Sandalphon stood by Gabriel’s side. Gabriel smiled as best he could, still working on being genuine with them. “Beelzebub, dude.” The demon raised their eyebrow at an archangel using the word “dude.” “There’s some new plans in heaven! Things we don’t quite understand. We were hoping you could shed some light on the situation.”

“We don’t zhed light. We are demonz.” The Prince buzzed.

“Yes. Well, we want some information, then.” Michael said.

Beelzebub sighed, looking professionally irritated as always. “Alright then. What’z the big newz.”

“God has given new orders. Aziraphale is to bear a daughter. This child will teach God’s children a new lesson. Though we weren’t informed of what that lesson was.” Gabriel took a deep breath through his nose, gathering the strength to say his next words. “Crowley is the father.”

“Crowley?” Hastur growled. “That traitorous bastard? A father? I’ll have you know, I don’t like jokes.”

“An angel and a demon child?” Dagon raised her eyebrows. “This has not happened before. Are we supposed to file paperwork for a new demon?”

“We asked ourselves basically the same question.” Michael sympathized. “This is totally unheard of. But we do not question Her will.”

“Perhaps you should.” Hastur said. “Is that _really_ all we know about this?”

“Yes.” Uriel replied. “God didn’t tell us the lesson this child was supposed to teach, nor did She explain what the child would be born as. She simply gave Her orders and left us to do Her will.”

“We had some questions.” Michael continued. “About the demon Crowley.”

“He’s dangerous.” Dagon said simply. “He’s always had… strange ideas. Unusual ways of doing demonic work. Then it turns out he’s immune to holy water? There are many questions we also have about him.”

“Did Crowley father this child legitimately?” Hastur asked with a grimace.

“It was a virgin conception, if that’s what you’re asking.” Michael said gently. “But he is the father.”

“I zee.” Beelzebub hummed. “We have zome queztions about Aziraphale az well. Virgin conczeption or not, he iz clearly cloze with Crowley in an… unnatural way. During Armeggedon he pozzezzed a human like a demon doez, and you zaid he iz immune to Hellfire. Are we zure he iz fully angelic?”

“He still preforms holy miracles, and has his Grace.” Gabriel said. “Of course, he’s an angel.”

“That iz another queztion we cannot anzwer. Why haz he not fallen?” Everyone was silent for a moment. The angels looked shocked, like they had never even considered such a thing. “He waz dizobedient to Heaven’z orderz. He haz ‘shacked up’ with a demon. He pozzezzez humanz. Yet he haz Heaven’z favor, and God’z grace.”

“Well. I… I think it’s because he’s still faithful to God. That’s the obvious answer.” Gabriel said.

Beelzebub’s flies twisted around their head, flitting in and out of their dry, knotted hair. “Right. How are we zure of that?”

“Aziraphale is a gentle, kind angel.” Gabriel said, though his face was sour. “Besides, this is God’s redemption. Giving him a new purpose, a new way to participate in Her plans instead of disrupting them.”

“Disrupting them.” Hastur said, black eyes glittering with malice. “This… daughter. She is supposed to teach humanity a new lesson, and perform some sort of holy works?”

“Well, She didn’t specify humanity, She said ‘God’s children.’” Gabriel corrected. “This child will teach God’s children a lesson, like Jesus taught them kindness. That was the speech I gave to Aziraphale.”

“Do you think it’s possible for the forces of hell to throw a wrench on God’s plans?” Hastur asked, a terrible smile on his pale, slimy face. “To corrupt the child?”

“Well that would simply be unacceptable!” Gabriel said, huffing in anger. “We would stop you, of course. And God would help us. This is Her mission, after all. We are closely involved with every step of this process. The paper said ‘the Lord will be with them.’ On Her behalf, I must insist you stop.”

“But we have equal claim to the child.” Dagon said. “They are of Hell as well. Crowley the demon is still employed in our office.”

“Iz he?” Beelzebub asked, confused.

“Yes, my Prince. No paperwork has been officially filed yet, due to the, ah, failed execution.” Dagon explained. “It was an embarrassment. I imagine Heaven hasn’t officially relieved the angel of his duties either.”

Beelzebub nodded. “Makez zenze. Thiz child iz of our world az well. They zhall be treated az zuch. I demand it.”

Uriel scowled. “So what? Are we cooperating or not? Or is this a declaration of war?”

“Well, I imagine it’s our job to corrupt the child. Introduce them to our way of life.” Hastur drawled, pleased with the conflict he’d instilled in the conversation. “The child, I imagine, will be a perfectly acceptable demon.”

The angels snarled. Children were innocent, pure and uncorrupted. Besides, they couldn’t fail in their duty to God. “We will thwart your evil plans, demon.” Michael said coldly. “We claim the child as our own, and will be her guardian godparents.”

“We also stake our claim on the newest daughter of Hell.” Dagon said, already writing it down for posterity. “And as her godparents, we will instill proper living on her.”

“Bring it on.” Uriel spat.

With that, the thin veneer of cooperation collapsed. The angels and demons were at war against. May the best godparents win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah. The demons and the angels both want to claim the baby. Humorous hijinks ahead! I'm delighted


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angels and demons waste NO TIME in trying to disturb Aziraphale's life. Crowley is just doing his best

They were a couple of days in, but so far, the pregnancy was going well. There had been small, but noticeable, changes in Aziraphale’s behavior. He tended to put his hands on his stomach when they were idle. A subconscious action on his part, one Crowley found endearing. The angel also ate more than usual. Nothing drastic, just more snacks and pastries throughout the day. Though Crowley expected he might eat more and more as the pregnancy went along. This was a large demand of energy, growing a supernatural being from scratch. He would be sure to satisfy his angel’s every need. He also did something Aziraphale had never really done before. He slept regularly. Probably also due to the energy demand. He rested every night without fail, and Crowley always threw a quilt over him. Kept him warm and comfortable. Watched over him to make sure all was well. And it was for about two weeks.

One night while Aziraphale was sleeping on the couch, he heard the shop door unlock. Then the bell above the door rang. Crowley was instantly on his feet. If an intruder _really_ thought they were just going to waltz in on his angel at night, they had another thing coming. He crept into the main room, peering out from the shadows to glimpse at the burglars. Instead, he was shocked to find Beelzebub, Hastur, and Dagon just… shuffling around in front of the door. Shit. They would be a bit harder to dispatch than a human burglar. But he wasn’t going to let them get at his angel. Maybe he could send them away. Maybe they didn’t know about the baby at all. He’d try his luck.

“Guys, what a surprise!” Crowley grinned as he stepped out of the shadows. “You didn’t have to come all this way, really. What’s up?”

“We came to congratulate you on the child.” Ah. So much for sending them away ignorant and unharmed. Hastur gave a twisted smile. But all his smiles were twisted. Play it cool.

“Yeah, big surprise that.” Crowley said smoothly. “Thanks for the congratulations, send some flowers in the mail. I’ll send you a Christmas card, all that. You going to leave now?”

“No, you fool. We want to zee the angel.” Beelzebub sneered. All of Crowley’s warning bells went off. Alright. If it’s a fight they want. “We’re here for… what is that thing the humanz do? To czelebrate a new child? With the water.”

“Baptism?” Hastur guessed.

“No, you fool. A baby shower.” Dagon said with a roll of her eyes.

“Right. We are here to zhower your baby. We have brought giftz.” Beelzebub held up a plastic bag. Tattered thing it was, one of the disposable grocery bags stuffed with dirty tissue paper. It was a sad approximation of a gift bag. Now Crowley found himself confused. Gifts? Baby showers? Never mind that it was too early in the pregnancy to have a baby shower, the demons were obviously out of touch with human customs. This was a strangely magnanimous gesture. Generosity was suspicious coming from the demons, but if they weren’t here to kill the angel, suspicious was a step up from violent.

“Ah.” Crowley said. “Why?”

Beelzebub scoffed, like Crowley was being a total idiot. “There is a new demon, obviouszly. One that will be welcomed into our rankz. Hell lookz after their own. We have decided to claim thiz new daughter of hell and be her godparentz.”

Crowley’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

Again Beelzebub made a frustrated noise. “Do you honeztly believe we are juzzzt going to let those _piouzzz azzzholezzz_ be the only onez involved? That we would mizzzz out on the opportunity to foil another of God’z _ineffable planzzz?_ Thiz child is going to have a good corrupting influenze on their life!”

Ah. There it is. So heaven and hell were having another dick measuring contest. This time they’d decided his daughter would be the object of their contest. As if pregnancy wasn’t going to be stressful enough for his angel. He scowled. “That’s sweet. Really.” He ignored their irritated glares at being called “sweet.” “But it’s the middle of the night. The angel is sleeping.”

“Well wake him up!” Dagon insisted. “We’re not going to wait around for the angels to make the first move! We are going to present our gifts first and make a good impression.”

Crowley was honestly stunned. He had no idea what to do. Whatever he expected hell to do when they heard the news it was not _this._ What was one to do when accosted by three rude demons attempting to force a midnight baby shower on them? He was still trying to figure out what to do when suddenly the lights turned on in the other room and a scream pierced the silent bookshop. Crowley was tripping over his feet running into the room where his angel was supposed to be asleep. Instead, a gaggle of angels armed with gift boxes were standing over him, attempting to force their presents into Aziraphale’s lap.

Crowley was by Aziraphale’s side in an instant, pushing the angels away. “What the Heaven is wrong with you?!” Crowley shouted. “Do none of you understand that baby showers are not meant to happen at midnight?!”

“Time is no object for celestial beings.” Gabriel, the smug prick said. “We are here to welcome Heaven’s newest angel into the world with gifts. As is the human showering ritual.” The archangel looked enormously pleased at his total understanding of human customs. Aziraphale looked pale and sick, and Crowley growled at the angels.

“You leechez!” Beelzebub snarled. “We were here for a baby zhower first! Get your head out of your halo and zzzcram. You are obviouzly not welcome here.”

“You are not welcome either!” Crowley shouted.

Both the angels and the demons ignored Crowley, for once. Instead focusing on Beelzebub. “Begone, foul demon. Before we smite you where you stand.” Sandalphon sneered.

“No! No smiting in my shop!” Aziraphale said. “Just give us your gifts and leave, please! Let’s get this over with.”

All the occult and celestial beings rushed and crowded Aziraphale, who still looked confused and frightened. Beelzebub plopped their sorry excuse for a gift bag in his lap. Uriel shoved their gift aside and replaced it with her own. Beelzebub elbowed the angel harshly. Uriel smacked Beelzebub across the head hard enough to put a human out of commission. Aziraphale picked up Beelzebub’s gifts with shaking hands and discarded the dirty wrappings. Inside was a blanket. A small, tattered piece of pink fabric that looked like it would have once been soft. Oily stains covered up the lovely star pattern and the tasseled edge was frayed beyond recognition. Aziraphale held it up and did his best to smile.

“Ah. A baby blanket. Lovely.” He said in a strained voice. Crowley rolled his eyes. What, had they just hit the landfill before they came? Beelzebub, Lord of Flies and garbage, looked immensely pleased with their gift. Totally unaware that nobody thought this trash was an acceptable gift for a baby. “I’ll put this aside, and ah, wash it later. Thank you.”

“Angel, you don’t have to humor them. This is totally ridiculous.” Crowley said.

“Silence, demon.” Michael said, placing her gift in Aziraphale’s hands. “This is much more suitable for a child.”

Aziraphale lifted the lid off the box to reveal a set of golden knives. Both Crowley and Aziraphale balked at the box, completely dumbfounded by a set of weapons that Michael thought acceptable to give a baby. Michael, however, gave a cool smile to the pair. “These are holy weapons. I thought it appropriate to give Heaven’s newest angel a proper set of knives, since they will be welcomed into Heaven’s forces. Given a holy purpose.”

Crowley was honestly speechless. Giving a baby a set of knives. Angels were more out of touch than he realized. Aziraphale gingerly put the lid back on the box. “Yes.” The angel said awkwardly. “I’m sure she’ll enjoy this… When she’s older.”

Hastur insisted with a cold glare that his gift be presented next, and Aziraphale looked down at a beautiful silver necklace, dripping with diamonds and rubies and unholy energy. “A cursed necklace.” Hastur said proudly. “Since it’s going to a girl, I thought she might want something nice to wear. To formal events and all that.”

Dagon and Beelzebub looked honestly impressed. Crowley cringed at the deadly curse that emanated from the jewelry. “Right.” Aziraphale said, handing the box off to Crowley quickly, blessing his hands the instant the “gift” had left them. “Thank you.” He said tightly.

This continued on for several minutes. Dagon had brought a pacifier that dripped arsenic into the mouth when sucked upon. Uriel brought a set of baby clothes that might have been quite nice, if she hadn’t cut massive holes in the back for wings. Sandalphon proudly presented another holy weapon, a bow this time with gleaming silver arrows. And Gabriel had the audacity to hand Aziraphale a _huge_ trumpet. With a wink and a laugh, he said he’d teach their daughter how to play as he did. Crowley looked at the gathering of truly awful baby gifts and wondered if he should burn them with hellfire or simply put them in a landfill where they belonged. But some of these things would be dangerous in the wrong hands, Crowley cringed at the idea of an unlucky human picking up the cursed necklace or the holy weapons. Aziraphale maintained his tight smile and thanked the idiots.

“Now, who are the better godparents?” Dagon asked eagerly.

“What?” Aziraphale squeaked, leaning back to try and get away from the angels and demons inching further and further into his personal space.

“The godparents. Us.” Sandalphon said. “We are staking our claim over the child. Making sure they grow up with the proper influences.”

Aziraphale’s mouth formed a silent “o” of understanding. He looked uncomfortable to say the least. “Is that what this is about? You think you can influence the way the child will come out with… gifts?”

“Among other things.” Gabriel said. “Of course! You tried to instill goodness in the Anti-Christ. Unfortunately, you were incompetent. But we will not fail as you did.”

Crowley, still standing over Aziraphale’s shoulder, snorted. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “good luck, prick.” Gabriel glared at the demon, but did nothing. He was the other contributor for the child, which meant that Crowley had God’s favor, as distasteful as Gabriel thought he was.

Aziraphale coughed awkwardly. “Right. So I suppose I will just… keep these. Really, very generous of you all.”

Hastur seemed offended by the word, but he wasn’t about to lose to angels, even if in a contest of generosity. “But who was _more_ generous?”

“Ooooh.” Aziraphale sighed. “Lord, it’s late.”

“Yeah. Get out. The baby mama needs his rest.” Crowley said, attempting to shove the angels and demons away once more.

“We will be back.” Hastur promised darkly. “You cannot stop us from seeing our Goddaughter.”

“Zatandaughter.” Beelzebub corrected as an afterthought. “No need to bring that awful woman into this.”

Gabriel made an offended sound as Crowley shoved them out of the room, working on corralling them out the bookshop door. “Thanks for the gifts, don’t hurry back.” Crowley said, shoving them out onto the steps and slamming the door in their faces. He collapsed against the closed door as soon as it latched into place. He heard Aziraphale’s tired sigh from the other room. With a breath of his own, Crowley hauled himself to his feet and joined his angel. Aziraphale had his head in his hands. It irritated Crowley to see him distressed like this. Those idiots. Maybe he’d get Aziraphale to bless some more water for him. Buy a water pistol. Using hellfire in a bookshop seemed unwise, but he’d think of something to keep the angels out. Then again, Crowley was unsure if he was capable of stopping them. They were determined. He collapsed next to the angel with a sigh, taking his hands in his own. “They’re gone.” He murmured. “It’s okay.”

“Oh, Lord. Crowley, they’re being totally unreasonable. These gifts are just plain awful. It makes me nervous to think about them constantly harassing our daughter, hovering over her. Trying to influence her.” He huffed. “I’m never going to sleep now.”

“No, angel. You’re going to sleep. And I’m going to do a better job at keeping them out.” The demon promised. “Don’t you worry about it. You’ve got enough to do around here.”

“What will happen when the child is born? What if she’s an angel? Will the demons try to hurt her? Or will the angels smite her if she’s a demon?” Aziraphale was spiraling now.

“She won’t be an angel or a demon.” Crowley said, and suddenly he was completely sure of that fact. “God is testing us. Throwing a rock at us just as we begin to settle. She wants us all to learn something from this. People don’t learn from things they already know; they learn from the new.”

Aziraphale curled in on himself. “I’m not sure if that’s a comforting thought or an unsettling one.”

“Well, it’s exciting.” Crowley said lightly.

“Ugh. How am I going to… you know…” Aziraphale gestured randomly. “Go through labor?”

That was something Crowley was unsure of himself. He had some horrifying ideas, but he wasn’t about to worry the angel with any of that. In the end if all else went wrong he could attempt to simply… miracle the child out. “Well, angel. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, let’s just assume God has a plan, yeah?”

Aziraphale gave him that beautiful, blinding smile. “Right. I just have to have faith.” He said. “Thank you, Crowley.”

“No problem, angel. Just go back to sleep.”

Aziraphale did as was asked, settling back down onto the couch and promptly falling back into a stupor. Crowley kicked the pile of gifts. This pregnancy business was turning out to be more complicated than he thought. And that was saying something. Hopefully the “godparents” took the hint and left them alone for a while.

Crowley set his expectations too high.

* * *

The next day Aziraphale was stepping out, enjoying the sunshine London was graced with that day. He was going to walk down to the bakery at the end of the street and grab a muffin or biscuit for breakfast. Maybe he’d even indulge in a cup of café tea. Something strong to help him with the fatigue left over from last night’s unexpected baby shower. Hopefully, it would be a good, long minute before the angels or demons attempted to see him again.

“Principality Aziraphale.” Said a voice behind him. Aziraphale shrieked, turning quickly to see who was behind him. Uriel stood on the sidewalk, looking utterly unimpressed as she always did. Aziraphale clutched his heart and breathed heavily. “I hope you are feeling rested today.”

Aziraphale only groaned. He wasn’t going to lie politely like he might usually. If she asked again, he was going to take a page out of Crowley’s book and make a scathing, sarcastic comment. But she didn’t ask again. Uriel didn’t seem to care about the answer to her question. “What are you doing out of your bookshop?”

“I’m going to get breakfast and tea.” He said quietly, stepping past her and walking towards the café. Uriel followed him quietly, not noticing or not regarding the dismissive body language Aziraphale was giving her. Aziraphale didn’t ask her to leave. Angels weren’t the most cooperative anyway.

“I hoped you enjoyed my gift for Dina.” She said.

“Dina?” Aziraphale couldn’t help but ask.

“Your daughter.” Uriel replied, flat and obvious.

Aziraphale’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You can’t name my daughter for me!”

“It’s a lovely name.” Uriel said, as if that mattered at all. “Dina is the angel of learning. Fitting, since she’s meant to teach God’s children a new lesson. It is an honor. Reverent towards God’s holy purpose for her.”

“That doesn’t matter! Whatever we name her will be between me and Crowley. She is our daughter.” Aziraphale scoffed. “This is insulting. I truly appreciate your interest in my daughter, but you’re all being very overbearing. I would like to have my breakfast, get sleep at night, and have a peaceful pregnancy.”

Uriel hummed, imitating consideration of his words. Before Aziraphale even had time to pause for breath, Uriel was asking another question of him. “Is Crowley going to marry you or not?”

Aziraphale sputtered, tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

“Well, he’s acting as your partner and protector. He’s having a child with you. God intended marriage to be the institution to raise children under. What is the human phrase? Is he going to ‘make an honest angel of you?’”

“That is an old-fashioned sentiment!” Aziraphale shouted. “Marriage is no longer the institution to raise children under. It is a way to show your devotion and love for one another. Many married humans do not have children together. If Crowley is going to marry me, it’s going to be for love. Not to… to… check a box off the list!”

“Is he not loving or devoted to you?” Uriel deadpanned.

“Well.” Aziraphale paused. Crowley was obviously devoted to him. He’d shown that many times, saving him from all sorts of dangers in the past, preforming miracles to please him, and staying with him through thick and thin. Aziraphale was aware of why. He, like every angel, could sense love. He would have to be in total denial to miss the pure, multi-faceted love Crowley felt towards him. And for a long time, he had been. Deeply in denial. But turning away did not kill Crowley’s love. He stayed true, just another act of devotion Aziraphale was undeserving of. Love and devotion? Crowley had them in spades. But did those things really translate to marriage? Their relationship was complicated by centuries of drama, denial, and distance. Aziraphale was afraid of being found out. Crowley was afraid of losing whatever he had with the angel. After dancing around each other for so long, it was hard for them to really admit what they had. Was marriage even an option for them?

Uriel looked unimpressed once again. “Right. So I’ll take that as a no.”

“Be quiet.” Aziraphale muttered crossly. He pushed open the door to the café, walking in without holding the door for Uriel. She followed quietly while Aziraphale ordered cherry pastries, cinnamon muffins, and a warm cup of tea. Humans talked quietly amongst themselves at polished tables, sharing cinnamon buns and early morning frustration. Uriel gave them a passing glance while Aziraphale picked up his box of pastries and cup of tea. Her eyes settled on a human nursing a cup of coffee in one hand, pencil in the other. He was absorbed in a sketchbook, trying to draw a pair of humans across the café. Uriel was instantly drawn to him.

“They are still creating.” Uriel said. She sounded surprised.

“Why would they stop?” Aziraphale asked.

“I am the angel of creativity, the inspiration of the arts. Humans used to call me the Muse.” Uriel whispered. “I have not inspired them in thousands of years.”

“Humans aren’t like us. They act on their own. They don’t need demons to tempt them to sin, they don’t need angels to be selfless. They are capable of violence and cruelty beyond anything demons can dream of. But also outmatch angels in kindness and love.” Aziraphale explained quietly. “It’s what I love about them. When I see what humans are capable of, all on their own, I understand why She favored them. Because unlike angels and demons, humans don’t need orders.”

Uriel was silent, but she was still watching the drawing human. It occurred to Aziraphale that angels really knew nothing about human beings. Not just their customs, language, or social lives. But about the way they worked as creatures. What made humans special and precious. “You have a lot to learn about them.” Aziraphale told her. “Welcome to Earth.”

She didn’t respond, she never did. Talking to Uriel was like talking to a brick wall. She simply turned and left, leaving Aziraphale alone in the café with his tea and baked goods. With a shrug, the angel picked a table and sat down to enjoy his breakfast.

* * *

Crowley was already fed up. The idea that the forces of heaven and hell would just, intrude on their lives whenever they so pleased… Well actually it was completely in character with everything he’d known about them so far. Heaven thought they were entitled to Aziraphale and didn’t much care about inconveniencing him. Hell, of course, was inconsiderate and unapologetically rude. They took pride in it. But that didn’t mean Crowley was going to tolerate it. His angel deserved rest, bless it. He deserved control over his life and his body. Two of those things had already been stolen from him, Crowley would _not_ tolerate anyone taking the last. Aziraphale would get sleep every night if it killed Crowley.

Crowley was already at the local department store, browsing the toy section in search of a sturdy water gun when Hastur appeared next to him. The Duke leaned against Crowley’s cart, rudely stopping him in his tracks. Crowley gave Hastur a scathing look through his sunglasses, which the demon didn’t flinch from. “My gift. A ‘thank you’ would be appreciated.”

He didn’t answer right away, instead yanking his cart back, causing Hastur to stumble and freeing Crowley to continue sauntering down the aisle. “You know, you have very old-fashioned taste in jewelry.” Crowley said lightly.

“We are ancient beings.” Hastur said flatly.

“You have no idea what to get children.” Crowley said. “You know, you can just show up at a lovely little shop like this and ask an employee ‘what do you think would be a good gift at a baby shower?’ They’re eager to help, they know all the online reviews, and you don’t have to do any work.”

“Is this why you’re in this place?” Hastur asked. “Finding things to give the newest daughter of Hell?”

“No.” Crowley said, peering over his glasses at a particularly attractive water gun. Something large, with long range and pump action. Like a holy shotgun. Crowley picked up a large yellow toy and practiced holding it, aiming it at Hastur’s head and looking down the length of his weapon. “Finding something to keep you bastards out at night. Something that shoots water. Remember what happened the last time you invaded my house? I mean, we all remember dear Ligur. Don’t we?”

The infuriated snarl didn’t hide the fear on Hastur’s face, who smacked the water gun away from him. “Alright! Don’t.” He took a deep, calming breath that didn’t seem to calm him down at all. “You understand why we must do this. If the angels have their way, they will ruin Lilith for hell. You of all demons should be interested in preserving her heritage.”

“Lilith.” Crowley repeated.

“The newest daughter of hell.” Hastur said, exasperated.

“Ya know, I don’t recall naming my daughter yet.” He placed the water gun in his shopping cart. “I’ll have to discuss it with my angel.”

“Lilith is a proper name.” Hastur growled. “Pretty, intimidating. Dagon said it’s very modern.”

“What does Dagon know of modern?” Crowley added a set of water pistols to the cart, Hastur bared his teeth nervously at the sight.

“More than the rest of us.” Hastur admitted.

Crowley finally rounded on the demon, placing his hands on Hastur’s shoulders and gripping hard enough to break his shoulder blades. Glaring him down as he spoke. “Look, I’m going to need you to stay away from my angel. You know how it is. Every demon understands the concept of territory. When you claim a soul for yourself, it’s yours. Others don’t get to touch it. This is the same thing. You are coming dangerously close to encroaching my territory, and I’m within my rights to defend it.”

“You haven’t staked your claim. He has not offered himself to you freely.” Hastur said, and this motherfucker was _asking_ to be hurt.

“Not yet. You understand how some souls are, I’m playing the long game.” Crowley said smoothly. “Besides that, the thing inside him is my territory.”

“You are my underling.” Hastur said. “I am your superior.”

“So was Ligur.” Crowley said with a dark, toothy grin. Hastur’s eyes flitted to the water guns in his cart.

“We won’t come at night.” Hastur offered, a sour look on his face. “But you cannot keep us away. Hell does not give up. Hell does not retreat or surrender.”

“You seemed to surrender after my ‘execution.’” Crowley reminded him, finally turning away to grab the handles of his shopping cart. He put his feet on the edge, using it as scooter and gliding away from Hastur. “Ciao.”

Hastur scowled, letting Crowley disappear into the endless aisles of the department store. “I don’t trust that bastard.” He said to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angels and the demons are already overreaching in their power. Trying to pick out baby names and identities. God, I LOVE this story. This is probably the most self-indulgent thing I've written in my life. It's pure wish-fulfillment, humor, and whimsy. I'm so happy to be writing it. I hope you enjoyed the baby shower!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley decide what to do about living arrangements. I'm forced, as an American, to use the word "flat" when talking about apartments. Ugh. The things I do for writing. I'm almost certain I may have accidentally switched between the two a few times, but don't mind that. Enjoy the chapter!

“Angel, you’ll never guess who I met at the department store.” Crowley shouted into the bookstore as he shoved his way through the door, pushing it with his hip and holding shopping bags in tightly clenched fists.

Aziraphale was just setting up to open the bookshop, setting a disapproving eye on the water guns Crowley had purchased. “Oh, good Lord, Crowley. I’m not giving you holy water again!”

“I’ve got to keep them out somehow.” Crowley said. “But that’s not all I got. I managed some baby clothes that _don’t_ have big gaping holes in the back. But never mind all that. I was telling you something.”

“Yes, the mysterious department store stranger.” Aziraphale teased, flipping the sign on the door to indicate the shop had opened for business.

“Not so mysterious at all, really. Hastur has no mystery. For mystery you would need tact, or wit. Or something.” Aziraphale groaned, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “Yeah, see. That was my reaction exactly.”

“No! I just met Uriel this morning. They are so pushy! She tried to tell me that our daughter _will_ be named Dina.”

“Ah. Hastur did the same. But he insisted upon the name ‘Lilith.’ Said it was modern. They really need to get out and meet some more humans.” Crowley sighed. “That’s why I need some holy water, angel. I’m going to repel the bastards the next time they dare to show their faces on our step.”

“Sweet as that sounds, dear, I’m not giving you anything so dangerous ever again.” Aziraphale shuddered. “It was nerve wracking enough the first time around and _really_ Crowley, putting it in a _gun?_ You are just asking for trouble.”

“Trouble is part of the deal, angel.” Crowley set his bags down on a book display, causing Aziraphale to purse his lips. He riffled through the plastic bags and retrieved a set of incredibly small flannel shoes. He set them in the palm of Aziraphale’s hand. “Look at how tiny they are. Always forget how small the new ones are. Rather jarring really.”

Crowley’s sarcastic banter was interrupted by a darling coo. He looked up from the bags at Aziraphale’s face and _Satan save him,_ Aziraphale’s eyes were _shining._ The softest little smile adorned his perfect face, a flush of pleasure spread from his neck to his ears. His angel was reduced to a pile of goo at a set of small shoes. Crowley was going to discorporate looking at him. Nobody had any right to look like that. He quickly averted his eyes, but the image was burned in. He saw it whenever he closed them. Whatever he’d been saying before had been forgotten. What was he doing?

“Did you get anymore?” The angel’s pining voice broke through the haze that had settled over Crowley. Oh, yes. Baby clothes. He presented his partner the small, knitted sweaters and pastel pink onesies he’d selected. The reaction was the same every time. Squeals and sighs at how positively “darling” he thought each article of clothing was. Crowley could hardly handle himself, forced to witness each little wiggle of pleasure and blinding smile. His hands shook as he handed a white dress off to the angel. Satan risen, how was Aziraphale like this? Every other angel Crowley ever had the displeasure of meeting was an absolute cock wart. Everything humans thought of angels, kind, pure, generous, beautiful; Aziraphale was incarnate. It was like he’d soaked up all the goodness heaven had for himself. Greedy angel. He placed a miniscule pair of socks into Aziraphale’s hands, thankful and disappointed that it was the last.

The angel marveled at them, then held them to his heart. Again he gave Crowley a smile bright enough to burn his dark soul away. “Oh, I can’t wait to meet her.” He said quietly.

He wasn’t sure if it was being overexposed to the adorable antics of his angel, or if his excitement was just contagious, but Crowley found himself yearning as well. “Well, it’s only been two weeks. We still have quite a ways to go.” Crowley said. “Good thing too. Have we decided where we’re going to…? I don’t know… raise the child?”

Aziraphale looked around his bookshop, confused, before it dawned on him. No bathroom, no bedroom, nursery, or kitchen. This wasn’t exactly a child-rearing environment. “Ah. Well, you have an apartment.” Aziraphale muttered.

“Ah, don’t bother. My place isn’t suitable for raising kids in. I should probably get rid of it.” Crowley said, waving his hand dismissively. Really, Crowley didn’t want to raise his daughter in his apartment. It was a sterile, minimalist nightmare. Not the cozy kind of place you have a baby in. His angel truly did deserve better than that. Besides the fact that Aziraphale would wither like an un-watered plant if he was forced to leave his bookshop.

This didn’t help. Aziraphale wrung his hands nervously. “Well we can’t do it here!”

“Why not?” Crowley asked.

“Crowley, don’t be ridiculous. We’d need a flat of some kind.” Aziraphale said.

“Yes, I’m aware. Here. Why can’t we just. Put an apartment on top of it? It wouldn’t even be that out of place. Humans put houses on top of their businesses all the time. Saves space and having to pay extra rent.”

“Gabriel complains viciously about my frivolous miracles!” Aziraphale worried. Crowley rolled his eyes behind his glasses. Smug prick. He really did hate Gabriel. A vicious hatred boiled in his chest, thinking about the way Gabriel treated him during the failed execution. Oh, he’d get him for that. “I can’t just go around dropping flats on top of bookstores!”

“The holy angel Gabriel,” Crowley began sarcastically, “is not going to complain for a single second about frivolous miracles. He’s trying to get on your good side so he can wank himself off for doing his ‘holy duty’ of bothering our daughter 24/7. Really, angel, you can get away with so much right now! You just have to think a little bigger.”

Aziraphale actually smiled a little. “Perhaps your right.” He said quietly. “Then I wouldn’t have to leave the bookshop. Oh, that would be wonderful.”

“Yes. I agree. Let’s just drop a flat on this thing.” Crowley urged. Best to get it over with before the angel changed his mind again.

Of course, he was overthinking it again. Aziraphale frowned. “Shouldn’t we think more on the design before we put a flat in?”

“Nah. We can make changes after. Fine tune, put everything in order. Would you like it furnished, or should we go shopping again after the fact?” Crowley asked, raising his fingers, already poised for a snap.

“Ooooh. Furnished. But not decorated.” Aziraphale specified. “I don’t want to think about what ghastly things you’d furnish us with if you were in charge of interior design.”

“Angel, you wound me.” Crowley whimpered sarcastically, nonetheless he followed through on the snap. Above them, the building shifted, now accommodating a new floor. In an empty corner of the shop, a lightweight steel spiral staircase appeared. He gestured towards it. “Would you do the honors?”

Aziraphale ascended the staircase eagerly, Crowley following closely behind.

* * *

There was not much Beelzebub liked about humans. Humans were an inconvenient truth of their job. They were distasteful, sniveling, whiny wastes of space. Beelzebub preferred any other duties. However, they did have a phrase Beelzebub enjoyed. “How I wish I could be a fly on the wall.” They said it sometimes when they wanted to express their desire to know the way people behaved behind closed doors. Beelzebub found they agreed with this sentiment, and it was a marvelous idea. To be a fly on the wall, totally unnoticed, and observe the private lives of people who wished to hide secrets? It was something they did all the time.

At the moment they were crawling over a centuries old copy of Beowulf. Their wings folded on their back; their metallic, blue-green body shone under the store lights. They had successfully infiltrated the bookstore Crowley seemed to occupy most of the time. The angel Aziraphale was busying themselves with a new shipment of books. Beelzebub thought the angel had too many already, but before they could think much about it, Crowley came bursting in with plastic bags in his hands. They set about talking about their respective days. Beelzebub was shocked and frightened to hear that Crowley planned to put holy water in a gun and blast them with it if they bothered him, and even more so to hear that Aziraphale gave him holy water before. The same holy water he’d killed Ligur with. Did the angel know Crowley was using it as a murder weapon? He knew angels were callous, but this one always seemed quite harmless. Beelzebub silently changed their perspective.

They didn’t stay on the topic long, expressing their annoyance at how their respective offices tried to pick out the baby’s name. Then quickly abandoning it to obsess over baby clothes. Beelzebub noticed something very quickly. Aziraphale’s joy, and more importantly, Crowley’s reaction to it.

Aziraphale’s happiness was nothing out of the ordinary. It was jarring for a demon, who spent most of their time in hell or around famously joyless angels, but they recognized the typical signs of it. Aziraphale shouted and made lilting noises of endearment, he jumped on the balls on his feet and clenched his hands together to try and contain himself. He smiled and laughed. All normal signs of pleasure. Beelzebub thought it was all rather shameless and unnecessary, but they didn’t focus on it in the end. What they ended up paying attention to was Crowley’s freakish response. Blushing, stuttering, staring. Beelzebub would have rolled their many eyes if it was something a fly could do.

Angels bragged often about their ability to sense love. They shoved it in the faces of demons, like it was something great and special. They scorned them for being loveless. Like it was somehow the worst part of their condition. It seemed that now, demons weren’t totally heartless after all. You didn’t have to literally feel the love of others in order to plainly see Crowley’s helpless affection for Aziraphale. They couldn’t say they were surprised. Everyone in heaven and hell knew that Crowley and Aziraphale had an unnatural relationship. Beelzebub just thought it was garden variety manic obsession. Getting tied up in a curiosity the way demons sometimes did. Or some kind of fetish. But no, Crowley was _in love_ with an angel. Probably had been for centuries. Beelzebub buzzed, forgetting that they couldn’t sigh. No wonder he always acted so strangely. Crowley was a freak.

They watched Crowley and Aziraphale retreat up a set of stairs that hadn’t been there previously. Beelzebub took their leave through an open window.

The streets of London were as busy as they always were. People shoved past each other on the sidewalks. An endless stream of chatter created an overlay of noise. Beelzebub hitched a ride on a woman’s purse. Following her several blocks away from the bookstore before flitting off to an empty alley for transformation.

“Demon.” An annoying voice greeted. Beelzebub rolled their eyes, grateful to have the ability. They turned on Gabriel.

“Zatan, Gabriel. Were you juzt waiting here for me?” The prince asked the archangel.

“Nope! Used this unoccupied place to land on Earth. Then you showed up.” Gabriel wrinkled his nose as the swarm of flies that always followed Beelzebub settled back into their gangrene. He made no secret of his distaste. “What are you doing here?”

“Zpent zome time zzzzpying on the loverz in their natural environment.” Beelzebub said casually. They glared at Gabriel. “Why did you not tell uzzz that Crowley iz in love with your Principality?”

Gabriel just gave Beelzebub another of those infuriating smug smiles. “It doesn’t seem that important.”

“You are an azz. You know damn well that it’zzz important. Half of Crowley’z actionz can be explained through thiz zimple added piece of information. Do you think it’z productive to keep zzzecretzz from the demonz you’re working with?” Beelzebub snarled.

Gabriel’s smirk just widened, and Beelzebub was going to shoot hellfire in his face. “It wasn’t necessary for you to know.”

“I zzzuppoze then that it’z not important information that demon Crowley is trying to weaponize holy water again. Do you think he won’t do the zzzame for hellfire?” Gabriel paled at the suggestion. “Crowley iz a wildcard that we need to work together to handle. We are on separate sidez, but we have zimilar goalz. I’m zure you don’t want to be in the dark when Crowley finally figurezzz out how to deztroy you.”

“Alright! Alright. We can work together on handling the demon.” Gabriel sighed. Beelzebub stared at the pristine archangel. Soaked in his irritating self-righteous attitude and his boring grey fashion. Gabriel thought they were so much better than them. But he was a liar.

“Why did you lie?” The prince of hell asked. “You have zaid many timez demonz are incapable of love. That it waz dezzzztroyed in the Fall. How doez a lie like that benefit you?”

“Most of you don’t love anyway.” Gabriel said instead of answering. “Your kind are selfish. Any love you _might_ feel is corrupted by the hole in your souls. Your love is damaged and incomplete, like you all are. Your love is the same as you are. Self-serving.”

“That’z not true. You know it’zzz not.” Beelzebub snapped. “I find hiz attachment to your angel juzt as dizguzting az you do. But Crowley’z love izn’t zelf-zerving. It’z a lunatic’z love. He gave up hell for that angel. Hiz job, hiz home, hiz peerz, the only people like him. And for what? An angel that will never reciprocate hiz affectionz? Someone too scared to call himzelf hiz friend for centuriez? Don’t make me laugh. Crowley threw himzelf away for that angel. He’z a tragic fool. But not zelf-zerving.”

“Crowley is…” Gabriel struggled to summon the words. “Unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

“You can zay that again.” Beelzebub huffed. They turned away from the archangel. “Keep me updated on them in the future.”

Gabriel watched Beelzebub sink through the pavement, returning to hell where they belonged. He scowled the minute they were gone. Selfless love. Lunatic’s love. He cringed in disgust, thinking about the blind, pure love that radiated off Crowley. An ambient love that followed the demon wherever he went. It made something inside Gabriel writhe. Something uncomfortable and hidden. Seeing the way, a demon held an angel so close in his heart. It was unnatural. It was wrong, for an unholy being to be drawn to a holy one.

A tragic fool indeed.

* * *

Aziraphale peered over the edge where the stairs met the floor. Rushing up the last few steps. He gasped at the sight of the new apartment. Crowley had created an open, sunlit space with creamy white walls and warm hardwood floors. There was plain oak furniture placed near walls and corners. No rugs, wall hangings, or color. He did as he promised. There was a couch and coffee table, a television stand, a closet near the stairs for coats. But there was no lamps, vases, or decorations of any kind. Aziraphale shuffled across the smooth floors, peering into a small, well equipped kitchen. A kettle waited on the stove, and Aziraphale smiled at the potted green onions growing on the windowsill.

“I filled up our spice rack. Not exactly sure what you wanted, but since your taste in food is so varied, I just put a bit of everything on there.” Crowley said. Aziraphale marveled at the simple glass jars, impressed with his attention to detail.

“Is there a bedroom?” Aziraphale found himself asking.

“Bedrooms. And a room that should be a nursery.” Crowley turned to lead him, and Aziraphale frowned when the demon’s back was turned. Bedrooms. Multiple. Separate. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, they still weren’t anything official. Despite Uriel’s questions of marriage and God’s seal of approval. It was nice living domestically with Crowley, having Crowley pick him up lunch and take care of his every need. But he had to remember what they were.

Friends.

Crowley opened the room to one plain, undecorated bedroom, then the next. “Both have bathrooms attached, but I still made a communal bathroom for bathing the pest in.”

“Pest?” Aziraphale wondered aloud.

“Parasite, pest, tyke. The little kid.” Crowley specified. Aziraphale frowned at the phrasing, but he did vaguely recall Crowley calling Warlock his little pest when he was living as Nanny Ashteroth. He quietly accepted it as a term of endearment they may revise at a later date. “And this is the nursery.”

Unlike the bedrooms, which had wardrobes, side tables, and beds, the nursery was completely empty. Aziraphale noted the thick curtains and the child safety covers in the wall sockets. “There’s nothing in it.”

Crowley turned away to hide the redness creeping over his face. “Well. You know, I don’t actually know that much about raising kids in the modern day. They’ve got all these complicated machines and self-rocking cradles. About a million women came up to give me advice when I was picking out clothes for the kid. So, I was thinking we could go shopping. Together. Pick everything out.”

Aziraphale hid a coy smile behind his sleeve. Crowley seemed to enjoy going over baby clothes with him. Handing him things he picked out and glowing when Aziraphale gave him his approval. A day of doing that together. Who could possibly pass up the opportunity? “Well, I suppose we’ll have to.” Aziraphale said, an edge of mischief cut through his voice. “After all, the little sweetheart’s coming one way or another. The day’s still young. Would you mind terribly if we took another trip to the department store?”

Crowley, still attempting to tame the blush on his face, smiled to himself. “Sure thing, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, domestic bliss and shopping trips? Can I get a wahoo?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale go shopping and try to put their new life together. Heaven waxes poetic about the latest development, and decide what the next best step is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a break to watch The Sound Of Music and clean my dad's car and now I'm back, baby! Fanfiction for all. Kick back and relax

“Satan risen, why are there so many different swings for babies? They have all these little dangly bits, too. Damn the Lord to hell, this is a nightmare.” Crowley complained, grinding his teeth at the complex display of rocking contraptions.

“Language.” Aziraphale tutted. “This one is lovely. But I do worry about the practicalities of such a device. Why do we need this again when we’re going to get a perfectly functional crib?”

“Because this one rocks on its own. Evidently babies are soothed by motion?” Crowley reached out to smack one of the hanging toys. “I remember raising Warlock. Little parasite never shut up at night if he wasn’t in constant motion.”

“Well, that’s a human child. How are we sure ours will be the same?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, angel. I don’t know a blessed thing about demon/angel children and neither do you. I _do_ know about the human ones. So that’s what we’re going off of.” Crowley finally just pointed to a soft pink machine with no dangling toys. “That one looks just fine. Even color coded for her stupid gender.”

“I like pink.” Aziraphale said absentmindedly.

“Is there any way I can help you gentlemen?” Asked a nervous store employee. She’d been ordered by her manager to help the strange couple who’d been terrorizing their baby section for the past hour. They were a very strange couple. Unlike most of the upstanding, respectable couples who came in asking for advice about infant products. One of the men looked like a sweet librarian, or perhaps a school teacher, with kind eyes and a soft body. The other looked like a rock star fresh out of a stint in rehab. They’d received multiple complaints thus far about the couple’s loud arguing, and it was Julia’s job to help them get what they needed and get out of the store as fast as possible. She silently wondered whether minimum wage was worth it.

“Yeah, we’re having a baby. What exactly should we be stocking up on?” The rock star drawled.

The question was innocuous enough. But something about the rock star unsettled her, perhaps the deadly glare he was giving her behind dark sunglasses, but five months in a department store taught her everything about dealing with unusual people. Julia took a breath and steeled herself. “Well, sir, besides diapers, wipes, and all the basic essentials, you’ll need some things to fill up a nursery. Do you have a theme in mind?”

“Theme?” The librarian hummed. “What do you mean?”

“Ah.” Julia said. “Like, the nursery. People pick themes. Fairy tale forest, jungle, Winnie the Pooh?”

“Ah, I see! How delightful.” The librarian put on a blinding smile that put even nervous Julia at ease. The rock star seemed to soften with his husband’s sunny disposition. “Well I’m afraid Crowley and I haven’t put much thought into it. What would you recommend for a little girl?”

“Well obviously pink is usually what people pick for girls, as well as princesses, fairies, and flowers. But if you wanted something more gender neutral, I’d recommend yellow.” Julia told the librarian and “Crowley.”

“Ugh, princesses. Fairies. I don’t know, angel. What about plain pink or yellow? I don’t know if I want such a patronizing theme for the pest.” Julia raised her eyebrows. She didn’t know which nickname was stranger, angel for the husband, or “pest” for a child. But obviously they weren’t the typical couple.

“Well I like pink. That would be fine.” Angel said, happy smile still stuck in place. “Ah, is there a bed set you recommend?”

“Well if you don’t mind the price, we have a maple crib. Don’t really like the flimsy plywood ones. Maple is a hard wood and has a lovely look.” The rock star Crowley gave a small nod of approval. “And don’t get too many things for the crib. Just a tight fitted sheet will do. Studies show that putting too many stuffed animals or blankets in the crib just increases the chances of the baby suffocating in its sleep.”

“Well a tight sheet will do!” The angel said. “Come on, Crowley. Oh, be a dear, can you come with us? We’re not the most informed new parents and we would really appreciate your input.”

How could Julia say no to that? It was what she was told to do anyway. Looking at the sweet smile the librarian gave her, she silently agreed with Crowley on his “angel” comments. She found herself absently trailing after the unusual couple. Despite their glaring differences, they seemed at ease and genuinely fond of each other. Perhaps they would make good parents. With her help, Julia was sure they’d be ready for their new daughter.

Crowley and Angel picked out a soft cotton sheet in pink. She recommended getting a few swaddling blankets, and they picked one with lambs, another with peonies on the pattern, and the last a soft white thing covered in angels. Crowley grinned at his partner, brandishing the piece of cloth before him, while the librarian huffed with annoyance. For whatever reason, the librarian acted as though the blanket had personally offended him. They decided to get it anyway. Julia advised them on bottles, pacifiers, what babies should wear to bed, nursery and changing table essentials. All the while their cart got more and more full. Julia eyed the cart nervously, but nothing ever seemed to fall off the precarious arrangement, even as it began to shake and wobble under its weight and height. It all miraculously stayed put. Crowley and Angel took her advice on the maple crib and got a lovely changing table, dresser, and rocking chair to match. As Julia took their address and their order for delivery, she raised her eyebrows. The strange couple certainly had no concern for money.

“Aziraphale, we have plenty of clothes. I think we should think about toys and decorations.”

“Oh, Crowley. You go too fast. This is fun! Let me enjoy it while I still can.” Julia took note of the librarian’s name, Aziraphale. Both strange names. Strange names for an unusual couple. She could only imagine the obscure biblical name they’d come up with for their child. Crowley sighed, but indulged his husband, picking out a staggering amount of clothes before moving on to toys.

Two hours later, the couple was checking out and leaving their store. Aziraphale shook Julia’s hand with another disabling smile and Crowley sauntered out of the store like a runway model. Julia watched them go with a bubbling sense of amusement and a silent sense of loss. She grinned to herself, turning away to get back to work. She couldn’t _wait_ to go home and tell her girlfriend.

* * *

Though Crowley didn’t know it, his drunken ramblings about heaven were basically correct. Heaven _did_ play _The Sound Of Music_ on repeat constantly. It was one of the few forms of art and color still allowed in heaven. In a small, out of the way theater, the colorful musical played infinitely for any angel with spare time. Angels loved _The Sound Of Music_ , or at least popped in when they were bored. All of them had memorized the soundtrack and appreciated the simple, kind nuns that populated the movie. It was the only place Uriel felt at home in heaven. The only place with color and music and life. As the angel of creativity, she often found herself kicking back for a showing of _The Sound Of Music_.

Uriel crossed her arms silently over her chest, watching with soothing satisfaction while Julie Andrews ran across the mountains, singing about the beauty of the hills. Uriel quite enjoyed how Maria had reverent appreciation for the blessings God gave her.

“Uriel.” She turned, slightly irritated at being interrupted, to Michael. She sat beside her for the showing. “It’s been a while since I sat through the movie. Isn’t it strange how it’s the only movie that ever plays in heaven?”

Uriel shrugged. “It’s beautiful and respectful of God.”

Michael nodded. “I agree. But there are other movies that are reverent towards God. Why this one? Or why only this one?”

Uriel frowned. That wasn’t a terrible question. It itched at her while Maria ran along the brook, singing joyously. Why only one movie? They didn’t choose this. It wasn’t some continuous choice of the angels. God one day decided She liked _The Sound Of Music_ and ever since it’s been playing endlessly in this small theater. God wasn’t here watching it. She played it for them. For their benefit?

“Perhaps… we’re meant to learn something from it?” Uriel guessed.

“I’ve been thinking about that too. God is always testing us, in Her own silent ways.” Michael said. “Now that Aziraphale is with child, I can’t help but wonder what else She’s waving in front of our faces. Waiting for us to understand Her. It strikes me as very odd that this movie is always playing. I think She wants us to understand it.”

“It would help to watch it with fresh eyes.” Uriel said. “I never watched it for its message.”

“I will watch with you.” Michael settled further into her seat; eyes focused on the scene as it ended. Maria was running back towards the abbey.

Inside the abbey, the nuns began to sing their song about Maria. About how she was a pious, kind girl who was nonetheless probably not cut out for living as a nun. Michael found herself focusing far more than usual on the one-off song.   
_She's always late for chapel,_  
 _But her penitence is real_  
 _She's always late for everything,_  
 _Except for every meal_  
 _I hate to have to say it,_  
 _But I very firmly feel_  
 _Maria's not an asset to the abbey._

The nuns sang amongst themselves about how she was late to mass, but truly penitent to God. How Maria was a free spirit who wasn’t meant to live their life. Both Michael and Uriel frowned. Why was this familiar.

_Many a thing you know you'd like to tell her_   
_Many a thing she ought to understand_   
_But how do you make her stay_   
_And listen to all you say_   
_How do you keep a wave upon the sand?_

It was on the tip of her tongue. Maria was very much like…

_When I'm with her I'm confused,_   
_Out of focus and bemused_   
_And I never know exactly where I am_   
_Unpredictable as weather,_   
_She's as flighty as a feather_   
_She's a darling!_   
_She's a demon!_   
_She's a lamb!_

_She'd out pester any pest,_   
_Drive a hornet from its nest_   
_She could throw a whirling dervish out of whirl_   
_She is gentle!_   
_She is wild!_   
_She's a riddle!_   
_She's a child!_   
_She's a headache!_   
_She's an angel!_   
_She's a girl!_

“Ah.” Uriel said quietly. “Maria is a lot like Aziraphale, isn’t she?”

Michael pursed her lips. “I suppose.”

“And they put her in the von Trapp household, like we put him on Earth.” Uriel said. “Because he wasn’t cut out for heaven.”

“You could interpret it that way.” Michael replied lightly.

The two angels continued to watch quietly while Maria brought music, laughter, and life back into the von Trapp household. As well as falling in love with the cold-hearted Georg. They watched Maria return to the abbey she once took her vows in to marry Georg.

“She still loves God.” Michael observed. “Even after abandoning a life of serving the church.”

“Well, yes. Is it not natural to love God?” Uriel asked.

“Humans abandon their faith in God all the time. Angels abandoned their faith in God, that’s why we have demons.” Michael said. “But if one doesn’t Fall, does that mean they still love God? Even if they abandon heaven?”

“Are we talking about Aziraphale again?” Uriel asked, to which Michael nodded. “Well, in that case, yes. I think Aziraphale has genuine faith in Her, even if he lives an indulgent life and doesn’t follow Her plans.”

“But Maria also loves the world.” Michael huffed. “She loves food and song and nature. Aziraphale loves those things too. You know how Gabriel complains endlessly about his eating habits. And his books! He is a hoarder of books. Aziraphale loves things that have nothing to do with Her at all.”

“Do they?” Uriel questioned quietly. “Did God not make the plants that grow the food? Did She not make the fish? Did she not create me to inspire works of literature?”

“That is a dangerous notion.” Michael said severely.

“Not that dangerous.” Uriel reminded her. “Otherwise Aziraphale would have Fallen.”

“He lives like a human.”

“God loves the humans too. Were we not commanded to love them like we love Her?” Uriel thought. “We’ve been wrong before. About the Great Plan. Are we wrong about life on Earth? If Aziraphale is favored in Her eyes, should we not live as he does?”

“You mean get a bookshop and mess about with a demon for a couple millennia?” Michael huffed. “It would be most improper.”

“Maria messed about with a man after swearing them off.” Uriel said.

“She got married.” Michael reminded Uriel. “She made a commitment to love him. Love is sacred.”

“Well then, shouldn’t Aziraphale marry that demon?” Uriel asked.

“Uriel!” Michael gasped. “That is out of the question entirely!”

“Is it? I asked Aziraphale before about it. God gave Aziraphale the task of bearing Crowley’s child. Marriage is the covenant of love and child rearing. Why should they not be married?” Uriel furrowed her brow. “I think it seems like the next natural step according to God’s plan. If Aziraphale _is_ like Maria, then he should marry as she did, should he not? Crowley is fathering God’s newest child. He should be Aziraphale’s partner and protector of Aziraphale while he carries out God’s new purpose.”

Michael made an exasperated noise. The idea of an angel marrying a demon like a pair of humans made her stomach turn, but she couldn’t deny the logic. Marriage was a commitment to love and child rearing. That did match Aziraphale’s purpose with the demon. “I suppose… as long as we’re executing God’s ineffable plan. Our principality should get married.”

“We should inform Gabriel. He’ll know what do to.”

The angels rose from their seats, gracefully sweeping out of the theater as Maria and her new husband stepped into the sun as a new couple.

* * *

The new flat was coming along nicely. Aziraphale was fussing over the throw pillows for the couch in the living room while Crowley laid out a colorful new rug under the coffee table. Potted plants already crowded windowsills and empty corners. Aziraphale insisted on ceramic lamps, while Crowley argued that plastic would look just as good and pose less of a threat when the baby inevitably knocked things over. In the end, they decided on ceramic, and Crowley performed a miracle to protect it against shattering. They would still have to decide what art to put on the walls and how exactly to arrange the nursery, but things were coming along. They’d chosen a green and cream color scheme for the living room, brightened by the red rug and blue lamps. It was neither the white and tartan travesty that Aziraphale preferred or the gothic horror film that Crowley lived in. It was a cozy, human-like dwelling they both agreed would be good for raising children in.

Crowley made himself busy in the nursery putting together the crib while Aziraphale attempted to put the television into the wall. Aziraphale was trying to put it together using the instructions as opposed to miracles. It was just fun that way. There was a certain catharsis that came with putting things together the proper way. The feeling of satisfaction and achievement that resulted from doing things on one’s own merits, without the convenience of miracles. Aziraphale was chasing after this feeling now, struggling with wires, when the archangel Gabriel decided to appear in his living room.

Aziraphale toppled backwards with a shout of alarm. “Angel? Is something wrong?”

“No! Not at all, Crowley.” Aziraphale rushed to say, glaring at Gabriel above him. “Just having trouble with the television. I’m going to go on a walk, get some danishes. Do you want anything?”

“Nah, that’s alright. Don’t look at the nursery until I tell you! It’s a surprise.”

“Alright, my dear. Nothing to worry about, tickety-boo.” Aziraphale rushed down the stairs, noting the silent presence of Gabriel following him. He tumbled out onto the street and looked backwards in annoyance. “What do you want now?”

“Patience, Principality. There’s nothing wrong. I see you have a new floor on your building.” Gabriel clicked his tongue, showing his disapproval. “I’ll overlook it at this time. We have some news to tell you. All part of God’s almighty plan.”

“Oh no.” Aziraphale muttered. “What now? I’m already pregnant. You couldn’t possibly demand any more of me!”

“I’m demanding nothing, Aziraphale. It’s the will of God.” Gabriel said smugly. “Besides, it’s just an extension of the duty you’re already preforming! Making a new family.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “I’m afraid I don’t quite follow.”

“Well you’re already having the baby. You know how families are. They need stability. Children need a committed set of partners to look after them.” Gabriel raised his eyebrows at the principality. “How committed are you to the duty given to you?”

Aziraphale quietly thought of when Crowley offered to burn the child out of him. His refusal of that offer in the name of doing what She had asked of him. “I’d say pretty committed.”

“But not officially.”

Finally, Aziraphale shouted in exasperation. “Oh, Gabriel! Stop with the riddles! What do you want?”

“Well, it’s simple! You’ve left heaven to start a family here on Earth. We believe it is part of God’s ineffable plan that you marry the demon Crowley.” Gabriel said with a large, fake smile.

“Oh, this again. Uriel already asked me about that! Marriages aren’t just for children anymore. They’re for love and commitment. I’m not going to force Crowley into those things just to make us a proper family, or however you may see it. If I’m to marry Crowley it will be because I chose to do so.” Aziraphale sniffed.

“Is that so?” Gabriel said coldly. “You don’t think it would be best? Crowley would be one of us, you know how paperwork is. He’d be a part of our family again. Safe from anything an angel might do to a demon, something fitting a tainted creature like him.”

Panic clawed at Aziraphale’s throat. “You wouldn’t dare.” He whispered.

“I wouldn’t dare hurt the mate of an angel, no.” Gabriel’s threat gave a sharp edge to every word, and Aziraphale shrank back from him. “Aziraphale, it’s just marriage! Humans do it all the time. We know how you love to live like them. Don’t pretend like you’re dooming that damned creature. You know that he is obsessed with you. He’d marry you in a moment’s notice if you asked him to. All you have to do is ask. Wouldn’t it be nice? I can feel the way you feel, just like I can feel how he feels for you.”

Aziraphale flinched. He didn’t want his own feelings thrown in his face. He did love Crowley, which is precisely why he couldn’t marry him in this way. He’d been so terribly cruel to Crowley for centuries, and he’d completely upended his life with this baby, now to trick him into marriage? Even for the sake of protecting him, it seemed wrong. He wanted more than anything to be with Crowley. He just didn’t know if he deserved it.

“You know, holy water may not work on that demon. But I’ve never met a creature that I couldn’t smite. Do you want to take the risk?” Gabriel asked.

“Stop!” Aziraphale sobbed. He clutched at the lapels of Gabriel’s blazer, his knees shaking and buckling under the weight of Gabriel’s uncaring gaze. “I’ll do it! Don’t do anything to hurt him.”

“Wonderful! Congratulations! I’ll be expecting a wedding invite soon.” Gabriel disappeared into thin air, leaving Aziraphale to scramble, fists clenched around nothing where they’d been holding Gabriel’s jacket. He wiped at his tears furiously. Taking a deep breath and trying not to be angry. Trying to hold back more tears when he thought about how _unfair_ it all was. The unreasonable demands of a heaven who never gave a damn about him. He slid to the ground, holding his stomach, and tried to regain his grip on his emotions.

From upstairs, Crowley frowned. An angry hiss escaped his lips, having heard the conversation from the open window. Heaven was meddling where they didn’t belong _again_. Using him as a means of controlling his angel. He sighed, putting down the pieces of the crib he’d been working on and stepping away to find a bottle of something strong. It was probably going to be a long week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmaoooo Gabriel is an asshole. Drama! Can't have a story without drama


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst angst angst. We doing marriage discussions today. Short chapter but I said what I wanted to say

Shame. Aziraphale felt shame. Something heaven had been very good at instilling in him over the course of eternity. He’d been happy. Living with Crowley the way they had been after the Armageddidn’t. He’d lived a free life with Crowley, having happy days and peaceful nights, dinner at the Ritz. The aspect Aziraphale was missing didn’t matter anymore. Because he had enough. It was enough to have Crowley in his life, draped over his furniture, bookshop, his life. Because Aziraphale could love Crowley without fear or apology, even if Crowley didn’t love him back. Now that unapologetic love had been snatched away again. Forced to marry out of fear that Crowley would be struck down by Heaven. The terror of destruction had been injected back into his life. Aziraphale took a deep breath, trying to hold it together.

“There now, okay.” He placed his shaking hands over his stomach, trying to soothe himself. “Just one step at a time. Marriage isn’t so hard. Humans do it all the time. An arranged marriage. Yes. This won’t be so bad.”

What _would_ be so bad would be trying to convince Crowley to go along with it. Aziraphale and Crowley had been moving at a glacier’s pace for thousands of years, and now they were having a baby and a wedding all in one month. Aziraphale’s real anxiety stemmed from the idea that it would all be too much, too soon. That the demon would go back on his promise to stay by Aziraphale and abandon him out of fear. He wouldn’t even blame him. The kind of commitments he was asking for were lifelong. Crowley may love him now, but did he want to spend the rest of eternity with him? The wicked angel who was going to attempt to trick him into marriage? It was a troubling thought. A sin, even. To lie this way.

But Aziraphale would commit any sin for his best friend.

“For Crowley’s sake.” He whispered to himself.

He pulled himself to his feet and walked numbly down the street towards the nearest pastry shop. Now he just needed to find some danishes in order to make his absence convincing.

* * *

Crowley paced quietly around their new flat. On paper, his silence may seem to be positive. Calm, contemplative even. Instead it was a consuming rage so strong that there were no words or sounds to express it. Only a dark, poisonous miasma that rolled off the demon in waves. Their new houseplants wilted instantly. Every married couple on the block began to argue violently. Children on the streets began to throw rocks at each other. A high-grade, murderous evil burned in Crowley hotter than the fires of hell. Gabriel was going to get it. Crowley would do something so horrible and awful to him that heaven wouldn’t even have a pile of ash to point to. That tool was always there when something awful happened to Aziraphale. Telling him to kill himself at his execution, the awful baby disaster, now this marriage. Bullshit. Archangel or not he was going to feel the wrath of Crowley. He was going to know fear.

Marriage. Hearing Aziraphale cry in fright for him made Crowley’s lungs contract. He wanted nothing more than to commit himself to the angel. What else had he been doing? Ever since the Anti-Christ had made his debut on Earth Crowley had driven himself full speed into one bad decision after another. All of them led back to Aziraphale. Every dangerous risk and suicidal hail-Mary cemented him further in the angel’s life. He was in it for the long haul, and he would take it as far as the angel let him.

Marry him? Under normal circumstances, no questions asked.

But when Aziraphale trudged back up the stairs, looking beaten and defeated and positively heartbroken, Crowley just let his dark soul wither. He knew he couldn’t do it like this.

Aziraphale tossed the bag of danishes on the coffee table. He didn’t even consider them. If nothing else, that’s how Crowley knew his angel was hurting. The day he didn’t stop in his tracks to enjoy a good pastry was the day hell froze over. Seems hell was in for a frost tonight. The angel gave a long-suffering sigh, turning his large blue eyes to his best friend. “Oh, Crowley. I’m terribly sorry. I ask so much of you already and I really just… oh, I don’t know. I’m so… selfish.”

Yes. Selfish, self-centered angel. Isn’t that the angel he loved? Isn’t that what he gave up his comfy position in hell for? So that his angel could indulge in selfishness? Really, what could Aziraphale ask of him that would be too much? Raise another child with him? Sure. Drive through fire for him? Absolutely. Marry him? With pleasure. Under threat? No way. “Ah, don’t worry. Putting the crib together isn’t too much trouble. Oh you’re going to love how it’s coming along. No peeking yet, okay?”

Aziraphale bit his lip, and Crowley watching him struggle passively behind his dark glasses. Aziraphale obviously wanted to ask him now. But the angel never had the courage to ask the tough questions. Aziraphale deflated, and Crowley watched him mentally kick himself. “Well, alright. Let me show you what I’ve done with the kitchen, then.”

Crowley allowed Aziraphale to dodge the subject. He didn’t want the argument that came with it either. He allowed this one little indulgence for his angel, like he gave him all the others. He never could say no to Aziraphale.

* * *

It was another two agonizing weeks while Aziraphale tried to work up the courage to ask for Crowley’s hand in marriage. Each time he opened his mouth the words died inside him. He really was too soft. He cried every night while Crowley believed him to be sleeping over the dilemma. He knew he didn’t have much time. Patience was a virtue the archangel Gabriel lacked entirely. He would probably kill Crowley any time at all for Aziraphale’s lack of compliance. Aziraphale cried and felt the shackles of servitude to heaven once more.

At the end of two weeks, Gabriel showed up at his door once again. This time Crowley was already gone, picking up lunch for him and Aziraphale. The angel startled when he felt the powerful presence of his boss hanging over his shoulder.

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel said cheerfully, though his word was full of poison. “How goes the marriage proposal?”

Sweat broke out over the angel’s brow. “Ah, that. Funny you should mention it.”

“You haven’t done it.” Gabriel wasn’t asking.

Aziraphale choked on the acid rising in his throat. “Oooh, I’ve been trying to. It’s really quite a difficult mission. If you’d only give me more time—”

“Heaven has been quite merciful, Aziraphale.” Gabriel interrupted. “God has been merciful. I cannot smite you, for you are blessed with Her child. You were spared hellfire, in Her mercy. You have kept your Grace. You keep many things, Aziraphale. The demon does not have to be one of them.”

“I find it hard to marry someone under false pretenses like this!” Aziraphale shouted, wringing his hands in stress.

“He’s a demon. Those creatures lie all the time. You need not concern yourself with hurting the demon. They don’t work that way. They are below us; we are angels. You are blessing him with a higher purpose, like She has blessed you with a higher purpose.” Aziraphale wanted to punch Gabriel’s holy lights out. But he kept his fists at his sides. “You are even granted the chance to…” Gabriel paused, looking quite sick. “Take your husband to bed. It’s part of the marital package. I personally would not sully the celestial temple in such a degrading and loathsome manner, but I am aware that _you_ might… ugh, enjoy such activities.”

Aziraphale gaped at the words. The archangel Gabriel was trying to tell him to take Crowley _to bed._ Were the angels going to force him to do that too? Would he get no choices in his relationship with Crowley anymore? “Oh, really, I don’t think that’s necessary. You don’t have to make me do anything like that.”

“Totally your choice. Honestly, I’m a little relieved that you don’t seem interested. I mean, committing lustful acts with a _demon_ of all things? I do not think I could bear to stand near you.” Aziraphale instantly reconsidered his choice. Gabriel gave him a nauseated smile. “Now, that marriage proposal! You must ask by the end of the week. By the end of three weeks, he must accept. Or I will give him the wrath of heaven.”

“No! Please no!” Aziraphale cried, but Gabriel was gone in a flash. Just as Crowley opened the door to the shop below.

“Angel! I’ve got some beautiful salads. I hope you’re in the mood for garlic bread, I’d figure I should spoil you.” Aziraphale’s eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the throbbing pain of Crowley’s kindness. It only made it all the worse what he had to do.

Crowley reached the top of the stairs and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Ah, Crowley.” Aziraphale sighed. “I have… something I need to talk to you about.”

The demon’s golden eyes narrowed suspiciously, and his tongue flickered out from between his teeth to taste the air. “Is that Gabriel? Why the hell was that prick here.”

“Oh it was nothing really.” Aziraphale said, his voice dead with exhaustion. “Just checking on me, micromanaging, you know how he is.”

“Say the word and I’ll end him.” Crowley put their lunch aside.

“God, no. That’s not it.” He looked down at his hands, twisting them together nervously as he thought of how to best approach the subject. Something he’d thought about many times over the past two weeks. “Crowley, have you ever… thought of our future together?”

“All the time.” Crowley gestured to the flat around them. “It’s why I’m doing all of this.”

“Right. Well. We’ve been in an arrangement for uh, quite some time now.” He giggled anxiously. “I’d ah, like to take our arrangement a little bit further.”

Crowley seemed to sigh, which just made Aziraphale’s anxiety flare further. “What exactly do you propose then?”

“Something mutually beneficial. For the baby.” The demon raised an eyebrow at the angel.

“Why, angel. Are you propositioning me?” Crowley drawled, giving the angel an easy grin.

“No! Lord, I’m asking you to marry me.” He finally said.

“Yeah, and my answer is no.”

Aziraphale’s mouth dropped open. He honestly hadn’t been expecting such an answer. At least not in that irritated tone. Maybe a soft no, or a joke, or even disbelief. But he’d been flat out rejected. Aziraphale tried not to be offended.

“Crowley—”

“No, angel.” The demon growled, and Aziraphale was shocked with the aggression in the words. Aziraphale squared his shoulders, trying to intimidate Crowley into standing down.

“ _Why not_? I know you’re in love with me, Crowley. I’ve known for years.” Crowley winced, but didn’t seem terribly surprised. Only sad. The deep, heartrending sadness that made Aziraphale want to abandon this argument to comfort him. But he couldn’t afford to. Again, he was stopped from reaching out on heaven’s whim. Tears stung his eyes. “So why can’t you marry me?”

“They’re threatening you. Don’t lie to me.” Crowley snapped. “Do you think I would ever be with you if it would hurt you?”

“I can make my own decisions!” Aziraphale shouted.

“But it’s NOT! It’s not your decision! You made it because the archangel fucking Gabriel said he’d kill me. Well, I’m not taking orders from heaven, angel. And neither are you. You are being so selfish. I gave up everything so you could be free of heaven. So that we could be free. You’re willing to throw it all away, and be with me even though it means signing away your freedom again. Being heaven’s lapdog again.” Crowley snarled at the thought. “They already used me to put a parasite inside of you. They took your body from you! I’d rather die at the hands of that smug prick than be a tool to oppress you again. I’m not going to marry you, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale felt tears running freely down his face, but he didn’t register them. All he knew was the numbing, consuming anger inside of him. “I want to be with you.” Aziraphale said. “Why would I ever want to be free if I couldn’t be free with you? What on Earth would I do here without you?”

“Tend to your bookshop. Find some other demon to _fraternize_ with.” Aziraphale reeled at the harsh words. “Forget all about me.”

“I’m having your _daughter_.” Aziraphale sobbed. “How could I ever forget my best friend? Crowley, you promised you’d stay with me. Our side, forever.”

Crowley looked like he was in legitimate pain, his jaw grinding together as he turned from Aziraphale. The panic rose in Aziraphale again, seeing Crowley turn from him, he stumbled out to grab the demon’s shoulders. “Don’t leave! God, don’t leave me, please.”

“I can’t stay.” Every word out of Crowley’s mouth cracked. Breaking with emotional pressure, squeezing his throat until he suffocated. “I can’t say yes to you. I’ll hurt you.”

“You’ll hurt me more by leaving!” Aziraphale gasped. “Forget heaven, I want you Crowley. I always wanted you. Earth isn’t my home without you. I want to marry you for myself.”

Crowley’s hand squeezed Aziraphale’s tightly, the one that rested on his shoulder. Aziraphale couldn’t see Crowley’s face, but he could feel the thin frame shuddering underneath his hands. “When you’re free to make that decision for yourself, I will. Promise. I’ll marry you in a heartbeat, angel. Just whenever you’re free of them.” Then Crowley was pushing Aziraphale’s hands off of him and going down the stairs. “I’ll be back, I just need some air. Sit tight, don’t stress too much. Bad for the baby.”

Aziraphale stood dumbstruck, wiping away his tears as he processed the first time Crowley had ever refused him anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha I'm an asshole


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's up? I got a bit distracted. With the riots and all that, I wasn't much in a writing mood. But I'm getting back into it! Enjoy the chapter

Gabriel waited a week for Aziraphale to ask the demon for his hand in marriage, just as he promised, before setting foot on Earth again. His next visit to Earth, however, was met with a rather rude surprise.

“Well, if it isn’t the archangel _fucking_ Gabriel.” A voice snarled behind him. Before the angel even had a moment to react, he found himself sprawled out on the ground. How he got there, Gabriel couldn’t say. He’d lost some time between the moments he was on his feet and then on the pavement. His entire body was drawn tight with pain, specifically his meager mortal skull. His spirit flared in righteous indignation, but his corporation refused to cooperate with his demands to get up and smite the villain who did this. All he managed was a groan of pain. His ears rang ceaselessly and his vision flickered. But after a moment he managed to push himself up onto his elbows. He was met with the grinning face of the demon Crowley, leaning on a baseball bat.

“Demon… fiend…” Gabriel panted. “Did you… fucking hit me with that?”

“Ah, yeah well. Thought you deserved it. After what you did to Aziraphale. Now that wasn’t very nice. I’d say downright demonic. Or perhaps coercive? Humans have lots of nice little words.” Gabriel shouted in pain as he was struck again with the bat, this time in the center of his back. His spine nearly cracked under the pressure, and he found himself face down on the ground again. “So glad I didn’t discorporate you right off the bat, if you’ll forgive the pun. Forgiveness is what you do, after all. I find it’s very hard to find the right balance between disorienting the target and crushing their skull in. But honestly? I’m considering it.”

“Stop!” Gabriel shouted, but it came out as more of a wheeze than he would have preferred. “What do you want?”

“What do I want? Now there’s a clever question.” Crowley drawled. “I’d like lots of things. I want to travel to China someday, I want to kill you without consequence, and I’d really like it if you didn’t threaten my angel anymore.”

Gabriel cringed at the usage of “my angel.” Then winced when Crowley pressed the bat down on his neck. “Foul demon.” He spat. “I am an archangel of the Lord; you will cease this at once—”

“Or what? You’ll smite me?” Crowley pulled out another weapon. Something he hadn’t quite noticed before. A sword out of a scabbard. It was obviously holy in nature, Gabriel could tell that much, and within an instant, it was set aflame. The energies conflicted, one of ethereal, the other of occult. Gabriel’s mouth dropped open as recognition filled his eyes.

“Did Aziraphale give that to you?”

“Oh, this? Nah, I’m just good friends with the postman.” Crowley waved the sword of the Guardian of the Eastern gate above Gabriel. “I can’t really use holy fire like Aziraphale can, but luckily I can use hellfire.” He dipped the sword down, holding the tip of the blade mere inches away from Gabriel’s face. He flinched away from the heat. “I considered killing you as soon as you showed your smug face back on the surface of this planet, but that would draw unwanted attention. As much as Aziraphale dislikes you, I don’t think he’d approve of me destroying you. Not to mention the other archangels. But really, it’s not the tightest spot I’ve ever been in. You can imagine.” His golden eyes flared dangerously behind dark glasses. “I could kill you now.”

“Don’t.” Gabriel said. “God will strike you down before you can.”

“Will She? God doesn’t help anyone. Doesn’t listen to anyone. You say She’ll strike me down. Sure. I’ll bet my life right now that She won’t lift a finger to help you. You ask God for me to stop, and I will.” Crowley glared down at Gabriel. “Go ahead.”

So Gabriel prayed. Quietly begging for God’s intervention. But after three long, horrible minutes, no God intervened. Crowley gave Gabriel a cruel smile. “I’ll take that as a yes! So now that I have God’s personal approval to kill you, be a dear and consider retracting your threats to Aziraphale.”

Gabriel looked up at the demon above him and was disheartened with what he saw. As much as he talked about demons being merciless creatures, he had thought that perhaps Crowley was a different demon. A weaker demon. Due to his fetish for angels and his softness for humanity. But there was no mercy in Crowley’s eyes, only anger and discipline, and Gabriel was suddenly reminded _exactly_ what he was dealing with. The demon’s glasses reflected the unrelenting glow of hellfire, and through them, his serpentine eyes burned darker. This was the worst side of Crowley, the side that made him fit in hell’s ranks. The archangel considered his options. His pride was strong, his pride in representing heaven and Her glory, could he really relent to this wily enemy?

Crowley pressed the tip of the blade closer to Gabriel’s throat. “I’m waiting.”

Gabriel felt his face contort with irritation. “I will… consider revising my demands of the principality.”

“I think I’ve actually been quite generous in the time I’ve given you to consider. Generosity is in short supply with _my kind._ ” Crowley snarled. “You’ll give me your answer _now._ ”

Gabriel huffed. “Alright! Your principality is off the hook.”

“You were never going to hurt him. You’d hurt me in his place.” Crowley’s face was utterly unamused for the first time since Gabriel had the displeasure of meeting him. “Using me to torture him with guilt. It was _not_ very nice of you. The threat on my life will be lifted, you won’t tell Aziraphale that I beat you, and I expect you to apologize to him. I think I’m being more than fair. In return, I won’t roast you over hellfire.”

The archangel swallowed his nerves. He found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sharp tip of the flaming blade. “I think I’m agreeable to those terms.”

“Fabulous.” He sheathed his sword, then raised the bat again.

“Wait!” Gabriel screamed. “I agreed! You have to stop beating me now!”

Crowley grinned, showing sharp, predatory teeth. “I don’t recall agreeing to _that._ Fine print, Gabe. I’ll teach you sometime.”

The archangel’s screams were heard across London, and Crowley felt he had a very productive afternoon.

* * *

Gabriel arrived in Aziraphale’s bookshop the very next day, warily looking around for signs of Crowley. The principality looked rather confused at Gabriel’s nervous antics. “Gabriel? What is this all about? If you’re asking about the marriage proposal I did _try_ to get him to agree, but you know how stubborn demons can—”

“Oh, no. Aziraphale. We have come to retract that mission.” Gabriel gave Aziraphale his best smile, which was more of a horrible grimace. Aziraphale looked confused.

“You mean… God doesn’t want me to marry Crowley?”

“Oh, we still believe that. But… it has been made it clear that you are to take your time and use your discernment on whether you are to complete that mission or not. After all, this is a test! God wants us all to make choices to the best of our abilities.” Gabriel said. “Anyway, the demon will be left alone. He’s your problem now.”

Gabriel was assaulted with a blinding smile and a firm handshake. “Oh, _thank you,_ Gabriel. I promise you won’t be disappointed. I’ll use good judgment and Crowley won’t get by me. No temptations here.”

The archangel wrenched his hand out of Aziraphale’s grasp and wiped it off on his coat in a way he clearly thought was subtle. “Right then. I’ll be on my way. May God be with you.” Then Gabriel vanished.

Aziraphale clasped his hands together, eyes squeezed shut, his face still softened by a smile. “Oh, thank you, thank you.” He said quietly. “Your blessings are infinite. Thank you for protecting him.”

Upstairs Crowley grinned to himself. Sure, She was getting all the credit, but it was nice to hear Aziraphale so pleased. He slid a screw through its threads, piecing together the changing table bit by bit. Things were looking up, it seemed.

The rest of the day went fairly well. The unusual pair spent hours fixing up their new flat. Crowley painted the nursery a pale shade of pink while Aziraphale finally finished wiring the TV. He enjoyed Aziraphale’s proud smile and happy dance. After a long day’s work, they got fried fish to celebrate.

“Oh, dear. What’s that under your nails? That can’t be from the crib.” Aziraphale frowned, holding Crowley’s hand gently in his own as he examined his nail beds.

“Don’t worry about that, angel. Just some garden variety grime.” Crowley pulled his hand away. Drat. He’d forgotten to clean his hands properly. He’d washed most of the blood away but it always managed to get under his nails and into his cuticles. It had been a while since he’d beaten anyone so severely.

“That looks like blood.” Aziraphale said plainly. “I hope you’re not doing anything, well, devilish.”

“Nah, nooooo.” Crowley said, pulling that scrunched up face he always did when telling a lie. “No evil deeds here. Just putting together a nursery for the new hellspawn.”

Aziraphale frowned. He wasn’t totally stupid, despite what his previous colleagues may think. Crowley definitely had blood on his hands, quite literally he was afraid. But he knew Crowley. He wasn’t truly malicious or evil. He had no evidence Crowley was a truly violent demon and he’d known him for millennia. Besides, it was possible he’d been attacked first. He had to trust that whatever that blood meant, Crowley wasn’t doing anything terrible. Aziraphale remained silent and didn’t call out the demon’s obvious lie.

“Crowley?” He said instead. “I’m sorry. About what I asked you the other day. It was totally inappropriate of me. We don’t have to get married, not if you don’t want to.”

Crowley was quiet. Looking down instead at his mostly uneaten lunch. “Just because of this child, I don’t want you to ever think you’re beholden to me somehow. You’re free to live your life however you want to. Or be with anyone you want to!”

What the _hell_ was he saying? The demon still wasn’t saying anything. Aziraphale began to quietly panic. “What I mean to say is, thank you. For doing this with me. And helping me. You’re truly an honorable friend. I want to be honorable to you as well. I failed the other day. I was pushy and ungrateful, and I tried to force you to do something you didn’t want to do. That’s disgraceful of me. I hope you can forgive me.”

Crowley sighed. “You’re not owed forgiveness, angel. I know they were threatening you.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“Alright. I forgive you. Whatever you need to hear.” Crowley seemed uncomfortable. Aziraphale’s heart leapt.

“What’s wrong?” He asked anxiously.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Aziraphale, stop worrying about me. You’ve got enough on your plate.” Crowley said. “You’re not a bad friend, or a bad angel, or whatever else you think about yourself. You’re not forcing me to live a life I don’t want. I’m living exactly the way I please.”

Aziraphale sighed, feeling the warmth of Crowley’s love for him. He hated this. Knowing that Crowley was so blindly devoted to him. Aziraphale was afraid. That Crowley would do things he didn’t want to just to please the one he loved. That he would throw his life away for him. Or that Crowley would come to regret the decisions he’d made, once he found out that Aziraphale was more of a bastard than he’d bargained for. Aziraphale had left heaven. If Crowley turned away from him now, he’d be all alone.

“Stop it. I can see you worrying.” Crowley sighed. “You’ve just got to believe me. You’re always talking about faith. Spare some for your best friend?”

The angel smiled sadly. Faith was hard. It was a thankless task, one Aziraphale had come to know as a burden. But for Crowley, he could shoulder any burden. “Of course, darling.”


End file.
